I Won't Be Ignored
by YouThinkYouNoeMe
Summary: [Finished] The line drawn between love and hate is very fine. Main Characters: Trish Stratus, John Cena, Stacy Keibler, Jericho, Christian, Rob Van Dam.
1. Default Chapter

**PART ONE**

Trish Stratus made her way backstage, holding on to her jaw in pain as she did so.  Her match had ended a few minutes ago, and even though she had lost, she was glad it was over.  Not that she wasn't disappointed… she had had her mind set on going out there and winning the Women's Championship from Jazz in the Fatal Fourway Match with Jacqueline and Victoria.  Trish pressed her index and middle finger to her lip, examining the blood that quickly formed there.  She winced as she brushed her fingers off on her shirt, making her way to the trainers' room.  She was definitely going to have to get that looked at.  Trish frowned as she thought back to the match… while she was in the ring, she went for a Stratusfaction on Victoria, what she thought was going to help her capture the title.  However, Victoria managed to push her just over the top rope, causing her to fall the floor below, crashing down hard right on her face.  The fall immediately had drawn blood, and it hurt like a bitch.  Ugh… she was just so mad at the moment… mad at herself for not winning the match, mad at Victoria for dropping her to the floor, mad at the fact that her lip her so damn bad. 

"Yo, check this out," a male voice called from behind Trish.  She turned around, groaning as she matched the voice with a face.  She looked up, meeting the blue eyes of John Cena, who was standing with Rodney Mack.  Trish shook her head, ignoring him and continuing on down the hall. 

"Where you going baby?" he called again, causing her to stop in her tracks.  Normally, she wouldn't have given a second glance to Cena's cat call, but she was in a foul mood.  She didn't feel like putting up with him, and she wasn't going to take his crap. 

John Cena had been nothing but an ass to her since he arrived in WWE.  Actually, the first time they'd met, he had been very cordial and almost shy.  Soon after that, however, he turned into a jerk… he was *constantly* hitting on her when she was the Women's Champion and was able to be on Smackdown.  In fact, every single time she appeared on Stephanie McMahon's show as the Champion, John would approach her and start dropping tasteless one liners on her… the kind that made her want to throw a glass of water in his face for even *thinking* what he said.  Trish was relieved when the Women's Championship became closed to Raw only, because that meant she would only have to see Cena, and put up with his crap, once a month.  Now, she considered herself even more lucky, as Judgment Day was the last combined pay-per-view before those shows too became split – now she would only have to put up with John once every two months. 

"Excuse me?" Trish asked, placing her hands on her hips.  "I don't think I heard you right, because I *know* you didn't just call me baby."  Rodney and John exchanged glances before John turned back to the Canadian diva and sent her a cocky smirk. 

"Chill honey, I was just trying to get you to come over here and say hello.  You hardly ever talk to me anymore," he explained, taking a step in her direction.  Trish took a step back, scowling at him. 

 "I never talked to you in the first place… and I don't plan on starting anytime soon," she said flatly. 

 "Oh, she told you John… you best back away from the woman while you still got a chance," Rodney cut in, laughing as John turned and punched him jokingly in the stomach.  Trish rolled her eyes as the two began play fighting in the middle of the hallway… men *really* could be boys sometimes. 

 "Oh come on Trish, you know you want me.  Everyone does.  You can't honestly say that you don't want this," he said cockily, lifting up his baseball jersey to show off his abs.  Trish raised an eyebrow, walking over to him and eyeing him curiously.  She decided that maybe, since she was in such a rotten mood, that she would have fun playing with them.  She her index finger down his abdomen enticingly, looking up into his eyes as she did so.  She leaned up to his ear, whispering in a very low tone. 

 "I can honestly say John… that there is no way in *hell* I would ever want you." 

 With that said, she turned and stormed away, leaving John to stand there, gaping at her.  His eyes narrowed at her… he couldn't believe she had just done that.  Who leads a guy on, only to tell him she wants nothing to do with him.  That Stratus girl was nothing but a spoiled little bitch.  As Trish darted down the hall in a huff, she was thinking the same thing about Cena.  iWhat a creep.  He actually *thinks* his lame pick up lines will actually work on women.  He's such a dumbass,/i she thought bitterly.  He honestly thought that he could pick up women by being the 'Doctor of Thuganomics.'  Please… the man was so white it wasn't funny. 

 Trish thought of how Vince approached the Superstars recently with the idea of splitting the pay-per-views.  At first she didn't like the idea… sure, it would give Superstars from each show more of a chance to showcase their talent, but it also meant that she would never get to see her friends from Smackdown.  The more that she thought about it though, this whole split pay-per-view thing was going to be great for her.  Anything that would get her away from that creep John Cena was fine by her.  She glanced over her shoulder as she turned a corner, noticing that John was still standing there, shaking his head at Rodney.  A small smile crept on her face as she disappeared around the corner.  Considering that that was the last time she'd be seeing John for about two months, she was definitely satisfied to have gotten the last laugh.  The look on his face when she told him there was no way in hell she would want him was priceless.  He looked as though he'd been slapped in the face.  iWhat a way to say goodbye,/i she thought.  For once, she found herself thinking something she *never* in a million years would have guessed she'd be thinking… 

Thank God for Vince McMahon.

**Should I continue?**


	2. Part 2

PART TWO

****

A MONTH LATER

Trish scowled as she made her way through the backstage area of the arena.  She was having a miserable day.  First, she had woken up late, had to race to the airport, and damn near missed her flight.  Then, when she was in the ring practicing with Fit Finlay earlier, she screwed up a Stratusfaction – her signature move at that – and landed outside the ring on her knee.  She put ice on it, but it didn't completely relieve the pain.  On top of the that, she was in a bitchy mood because – as Stephanie McMahon would put it – she was getting a visit from her Aunt Flo.  Needless to say, she wasn't in the brightest of moods.  She found the door to the women's locker room and went inside, not bothering to shut the door behind her.  She plopped down on the couch, heaving a huge sigh of exhaustion.  She leaned back in her seat, closing her eyes as she placed her hand over her face.  She felt the beginnings of a migraine coming on… great, that was just what she needed.

"Hey kid, you okay?"

Trish looked up as she heard a voice calling to her, her eyes meeting the green ones of Rob Van Dam.  He was standing out in the hall, poking his head in the doorway. Trish sent him a tired half smile.

"I'm not really having a very good day, but yeah, I'm okay.  Why did you ask?" she replied, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.  Rob shrugged, sending her a grin.

"You looked upset, and you know me… I have to keep a close watch on my girls," he told her. For the first time all day, Trish's face broke into a full grin.  She thought it was very funny how Rob could be the most laid back person in the world around his guy friends, but around his female friends he was the most panicky, concerned, sometimes *annoying* person in the world.

"Aw, I'm one of your girls?  Should I feel honored?" she asked.

"Of course you should… there are only a few select women who I consider important enough to look out for.  You're on a very prestigious list Trish," he answered, winking at her.

Trish laughed quietly, "Wow, thanks Robbie."  Rob nodded, standing silently in the doorway for a moment before speaking.

"So, are you going to come out with me and everyone else tonight?" he asked hopefully.  Trish hesitated for a minute, and then she slowly shook her head.

"I don't think so Rob," she replied.

"Oh, but why?" he asked disappointedly.  "You *have* to come with us Trish."  Her rbows raising, the Canadian diva sent Rob a questioning look.

"Oh really, I *have* to?  Why should I listen to you?" she challenged, grinning at him playfully.

"Because you love me?" Rob suggested.  Trish shook her head.

"Try again."

Rob grinned widely, knowing full well that he had something – rather, someone – that would definitely make Trish change her mind about going out with everyone that night.

"Okay, I'll try again.  How about this… there's a certain redhead coming out to see me later tonight, and I can guarantee that *she* will be out with us tonight," he told her.  Trish's eyes widened as she realized who it was that Rob was referring to.

"Lita's coming?!" she asked eagerly, excitement and hopefulness obvious in her tone.

Rob nodded proudly, "Is that reason enough?"  Nodding enthusiastically, Trish's grin widened even more.

"Yes!" she cried happily.

She hadn't seen Lita in over two months.  It would be awesome to get to see her again, especially since – with the exception of Stacy Keibler – Lita was her best friend on Raw.  The redhead had stopped doing commentary for Sunday Night Heat so that she could get back in the ring and start training for her comeback from her very serious neck injury.  She hadn't planned on even visiting until she was ready to make her return, but slightly before she left, RVD had asked her out.  The two of them had always been good friends, dating back to their days in ECW, so when Lita and Matt Hardy broke up, it just seemed right.  Rob was there for her through the duration of the breakup, and soon enough after Lita was ready to be in a relationship again, they were together.

"So Robbie," Trish spoke suddenly, eyeing Rob with a twinkle in her eyes, "are you excited to see your girlfriend?"  Rob leaned against the frame of the door casually, and Trish saw what she swore to be a blush on his cheeks.  Then, he laughed, his color returning back to normal.

"Of course… definitely dude," he said after a moment of hesitation, causing Trish to laugh.

"You're too much *dude*," she replied, shaking her head.  "You…"

"ROB!"  Rob's head snapped in the direction of the loud voice, and he laughed when he saw Eric Bischoff storming towards him.  "In my office, NOW!"

"Oh shit, I'm in trouble.  I have to go Trish, but I'll see you tonight," he said, shaking his head.  Trish's eyes widened slightly… she could only imagine what it was Rob had done this time.  "I swear, you lock one person in the storage closet and they're ready to hang you!"  As he waved goodbye, Trish's jaw dropped.

"Rob!" she gasped.  "You're so bad… but wait, why would Bischoff care if you locked someone in a closet?"  Before he walked away, Rob stuck his head in the door one more time, smiling at her…

"Because it was him."

LATER THAT NIGHT 

Trish and Lita cracked up as they grinded up against each other on the dance floor.  Both of them glanced over at the bar where their friends were sitting… Rob, Bubba and D'Von Dudley, Tommy Dreamer, Stacy Keibler, and Ivory all came out that night.  Also sitting with them was Christian and Chris Jericho, who, contrary to popular belief, were not as big of assholes as they made themselves out to be.  In fact, once you got them away from the cameras, they were pretty cool guys.  As they continued to glance over, they laughed as they noticed the… amused… look on all the guys' faces at the way they were dancing.  Once the song finished up, they decided to take a break, so they headed back over to the bar, where everyone was seated.

"Hey," Lita said as she approached Rob, pressing her lips to his.

"Hey babe," he replied, wrapping his arm around her waist as she stood next to him.  

Both of them laughed as Trish stumbled while making her way up to them.  She had definitely had a little too much to drink that night… talk about drinking your troubles away.  The couple watched as she snatched Jericho's drink out of his hand just as he was about to take a sip of it, guzzling it down in seconds.  Giggling and winking at him, she placed the now empty cup on the bar, nearly falling as she leaned forward.  Jericho grabbed her arm and propped her up, preventing her from falling.

"Woah, I think you've had enough for tonight kiddo," he said to her, still holding fast to her arm.

"Yeah," Lita agreed, no longer laughing.  "Maybe you should head back to the hotel."  Rob shook his head.

"She's not going anywhere unless someone's going to take her," he said protectively.  Trish nodded… she may have been a little on the drunk side, but she still had enough control over her mind to know that she was in no condition to drive herself back to the hotel.

"I can take her," Stacy spoke up from behind Chris.  "I was going to head back pretty soon anyway."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Chris asked quickly.  He didn't want Stacy to leave… not only did he really enjoy hanging out with her, he didn't want her to have to go back that bastard boyfriend of hers, Test.

"No, that's okay," Stacy insisted.  "Thanks though.  Come on Trish, let's go."  Trish nodded, letting go of Jericho and waving goodbye.

"Call me tomorrow Li," she called, to which Lita nodded.  Stacy turned back, sending Chris one last smile before leading Trish to the door.  Once they neared the exit, Stacy stopped, grabbing Trish by the arm.

"Hey, I just need to run to the bathroom really quick before we leave," she shouted over the blaring music, gesturing to the restroom in the corner of the club.

Trish nodded, "Okay, I'll just wait outside for you."

With that, Stacy turned and rushed into the bathroom while Trish walked out the door.  Once she stepped outside, she took a deep breath of the cool, fresh air, thankful to no longer be breathing in the smoke that contaminated the interior of the club.

"Trish Stratus…"

Trish turned upon hearing her name, noticing a man approaching her.  He had dark, jet black hair, he was about 6'2", and he looked to be about late twenties or even early thirties.  Trish had never seen the man before in her life.

"Excuse me?" she asked, confused.  "Do I know you?"  She was feeling slightly embarrassed, like she should know who this person was, but didn't. 

"No," the man said, stepping closer to her.  "But you can by the end of the night."  Trish's eyes narrowed in disgust.  She was right, she didn't know him… he was just some strange pervert who thought he could pick her up.

"Actually, I'd rather not," she said pointedly.

She moved to step past him, but the man sealed off the distance between them, gripping her forearms and pushing her against the wall.

"I didn't ask you if you wanted to," he said, his voice low.  "Let me rephrase… by the end of the night you *will* know me."

"Get the hell off of me!" she cried angrily, struggling to break free of his grasp.

Trish suddenly got scared, her eyes darting around for any signs of Stacy, or anyone else for that matter.  The more she fought, the tighter his grip became.  She desperately fought to get away from the strange man, but to no avail.  He was much stronger than her, and no matter how hard she fought, he kept her pinned to the wall.

"Don't fight so much Trish… it's be much better for both of us if you don't," he said.  

Trish looked up at him, meeting his fierce brown eyes.  She wanted so badly to look angry – she didn't want to show him any signs of fear – but she couldn't help it.  This guy was obviously planning on doing something to her, and she was becoming more and more terrified by the moment.  She squeezed her eyes shut tightly as the man placed his hand on her hip, praying for Stacy to get her ass outside.  She braced herself for the worst, until she heard the man let out a pained groan and watched him drop to the ground.  Somebody must have hit him from behind.  At the moment, Trish didn't care who it was, but she was considering planting a huge kiss on them for rescuing her from what could potentially have been a horrifying experience.  She looked up to see who her savior was, and she gasped…

It was John Cena. 

**Hey guys!! Glad some of you liked the first part.  I know that one was a little short, so I tried to make up for it this time!  Hope you like it!**


	3. Part 3

PART THREE

****

OUTSIDE THE CLUB

Trish watched, her eyes still wide, as the man who attacked her scurried away, holding onto his side, where he had been punched.  She looked up at her rescuer in complete shock.  Never in a million years would she have expected John Cena to stop and help her out of a situation like that. Never.  At first, she simply stared at him, at a loss for words.

"John, I…"

"Don't worry about it Trish," he said before she could even get her statement out.  Trish sent him a confused look. 

"But…"

"No," he cut her off again, eyeing her seriously.  "No Trish, don't thank me.  I don't want or need to be thanked for that.  I did what I had to do." 

 He helped her up to her feet, checking to be sure she was okay.  He couldn't believe the nerve of that bastard.  He had seen the entire thing, and to be honest, it disgusted him.  He had watched the man stumbling up to Trish – he was obviously drunk off his ass – and making a pass at her.  And when she turned him down, what did he do?  He kept right on pushing.  John wanted more than anything at the moment to be heartless.  He wanted more than anything in the world to just pass on by, to turn the other cheek and continue on to the club and meet his friends and pretend like nothing out of the ordinary had happened, but he couldn't.  He just couldn't.  No respectful man could.

"How can I not thank you?" Trish asked incredulously.  He must not have realized what it was he just did.  "You saved my…"

"I *said* don't thank me!" John snapped, his tone turning cold.  "I thought I was pretty clear there."

"But I…"

"Trish, please!  I already told you, don't worry about it!  I did what I had to do… just drop it," he said, and this time his tone was harsh, threatening even.  Trish quickly shut her mouth, looking down at the ground.  She became confused again.  The look on his face had been… well, it had almost been warming.

"Look," he said, his gaze suddenly becoming soft again.  "Don't hang around clubs this late at night, okay?  It's dangerous out here," he advised.

Saying nothing more, he turned away from her and headed into the club, most likely going in there to meet some friends.  Trish assumed he was here to hang out with Rodney Mack again.  Trish was more confused now than ever.  What the hell was that?  John had gone from hot to cold and back again all in a course of five minutes. She was still in total shock that he'd actually helped her out.  After all, he hated her… didn't he?  What could he possibly get out of coming to her aid?  The blonde diva didn't know what to that was, but she *did* know that she was extremely thankful for Cena at the moment.  If it wasn't for him, that man could have assaulted her – or even worse, raped her – and then she'd be totally screwed.

"Okay Trish, I'm ready!" a voice called and, even though it was obviously a female's, Trish still jumped.  She turned and saw Stacy, who was heading towards her as she slid her arms into her jacket.

"Oh… okay Stace, let's go," she responded automatically.  Trish went to move, but she stopped when she noticed Stacy staring bullet holes in her.

"What is it?" she asked curiously.

"Oh, nothing," Stacy replied.  "I was just thinking that you look *really* out of it.  Maybe it's a good thing I'm taking you back to the hotel now after all."  Trish nodded perceptively, though she secretly disagreed with her.  While she *was* out of whack as the leggy blonde had said, the events that had transpired a few minutes ago seemed to have knocked the liquor right out of her system.  She had never felt more sober or alert in her life, but she had absolutely no desire to go back to that club ever again, let alone that night.  So, she played along, following Stacy to her car.  Once they were in the car, Stacy turned back to Trish, her eyes still full of concern.

"You okay?" she asked worriedly.  Trish glanced over at her, nodding insistently.

"I'm fine.  Just a little tired. I-I think the liquor's starting to get to me," she lied, sending the younger woman a fake smile.

Then, Trish turned her head, staring out the window as Stacy pulled out of the parking lot.  As she leaned against the window, her thoughts drifted back tot John and the help he provided her with not long ago.  Why did he do it?  If he didn't want to gloat, and he didn't want to get a thank you out of her, why did he even bother?  Trish sighed quietly.  What a night.  The person whom she'd rather be dead then spend a day with turned out to be her savior…

God sure had a funny way of working things.

A WEEK LATER 

Trish sat in the women's locker room, organizing and reorganizing her bag.  She had nothing better to do anyway, and she needed to get all the things bothering her out of her mind.  As much as she hated to admit it, she was *still* thinking about that night at the club.  She thought about it so much that it literally kept her up at night.  It was starting to piss her off.  She sighed, zipping up her bag and plopping it on the floor.  She rested back on the couch, crossing her arms and closing her eyes.  Almost immediately after she shut them, a vision popped into her head, causing her eyes to snap open.  Shaking her head, she told herself to snap out of it.  She closed her eyes again, only to once again open them as the image appeared again.  This time she kept her eyes open, cursing the image that was haunting her mind.  Well, maybe _haunting_ wasn't the best word to describe it.  It was more like… like… consuming.  It hadn't left her mind at all in the past week, and even if she found a temporary distraction for her thoughts, it was always in the back of her mind.  It became emblazoned in her mind.  Every spare minute, Trish's brain was occupied by the image…

The image of John Cena helping her up at the club.

She just couldn't get over the look he gave her.  It was unlike any expression he had word – directed at her anyway.  The look was almost… well, almost one of concern.  But it couldn't be concern… it just couldn't be.  John Cena hated Trish Stratus, and she hated him too.  That was all there was to it.  There was no care, kindness, or concern of any kind between them.  But then, why the hell did he help her?  He could have just as easily passed by, and not even given her a second glance.  But he didn't pass by… he stopped, punched the asshole, *and* he helped her to her feet.  Trish sighed for what felt like the eightieth time that day… she really needed to get him off of her mind.  She was willing to bet that *he* wasn't thinking about the incident, or her, anymore.  He probably didn't even give the event a second thought once he got inside the club.  Like he had told her, he just did what he had to do.

"Hey Trish!" Stacy called cheerily as she entered the room.  For once, Trish got her mind off John, raising an eyebrow at her friend's happiness.  For someone who had to be stuck with Test all day, she sure seemed happy.

"Where did you come from?" she asked curiously.

"Jericho's locker room," Stacy stated plainly.  Trish sent her a curious and confused gaze.

"Jericho?  Again?  Are you stalking the poor guy?" she asked jokingly, a grin suddenly crossing her face.  Stacy sent her a coy smile, shaking her head and shrugging.

"I'm not stalking him Trish… we're just… hanging out, that's all," she insisted.

"Right… and when you guys are alone in his locker room all you do is 'hang out,'" Trish said sarcastically.  Stacy looked at her with wide, innocent looking eyes.

"What kind of girl do you think I am Miss Trish?" Stacy asked, seemingly in shock.  All of a sudden feeling a little better, Trish jumped up from her seat.

"Hey, you hungry?  Let's go get something to eat," she suggested, pointing to the door of the locker room.  Stacy thought about it for a moment, and then nodded.

"Sure, lets go!" she said, turning on her heel and following Trish to the door.  As they made their way down the hall, Stacy stayed a step behind Trish.  She eyed the shorter woman intently, suddenly glad that she invited her to grab something to eat.  Maybe then they could get to talking…

And maybe then she could explain how she knew all about what happened to Trish a week ago.

**Hey all! Glad you're liking this story!  Keep reading, and you'll find about more about Stacy and Jericho, as well as Stacy's relationship with John!  Hope you like it, and please, don't hesitate to review!!**


	4. Part 4

A LITTLE WHILE LATER

"So... what you're saying is, you're actually friends with him?" Trish asked in disbelief, sending Stacy a funny look. The younger woman's gaze was serious as she nodded.

"Yes. John and I have been friends for awhile now... since he debuted, actually," she admitted. Trish let out a short snort of a laugh.

"Stace, let me get this straight. You, Stacy Keibler, were actually friends with Mr. Thuganomics, John Cena? That's crazy," she said, still laughing. The thought of anyone being friends with John considering the way he treated people was insane. Sure, he had helped her out and all, but that didn't mean they were friends, nor would they ever be. Besides, seeing as how Stacy didn't know about her little incident and subsequent encounter with John, she couldn't show any amicable emotions toward him...

"No Trish... we *are* friends. To this day, John and I have been kind of... kind of like brother and sister," Stacy said, and Trish could tell by her gaze that she was dead serious. She sent her best friend a very confused look.

"W-what?  How? I mean, what would possess you to be friends with that man?" she asked disbelievingly. "He's rude, he's obnoxious, he's..."

"He's actually a pretty good guy once you get to know him," Stacy finished for her, resting her arms on the table in front of her. Trish shook her head in amazement, picking up her glass of iced tea and taking a small sip.

"If you say so," she said, placing the glass back down on the table. Stacy's eyes narrowed skeptically at her friend.

"You know, you never really gave him much of a chance," she pointed out. "I didn't think he was all that amazing when he started turning asshole either, but I decided I'd give him an opportunity to explain himself. While I don't understand exactly why he acts the way he does, I do know that he and I have had some awesome talks, and I really love hanging out with him." Trish eyed Stacy as if she just stepped off of a flight from Mars. 

"Are you sure we're talking about the same John Cena?  Cause the John Cena that I know would *never* be caught dead having a conversation with the likes of you, nor would he even bother..."

"That's just the thing, Trish," Stacy cut her off again. "You don't know him, or at least, not the *real* him. He's really a good guy Trish, and if you knew why he acted the way he does around you, maybe you wouldn't hate him so much." At the end of her statement, the leggy blonde let out a tiny, almost unnoticeable gasp, causing Trish to raise an eyebrow. 

"What exactly do you mean?"

"Nothing... just, don't worry about it," she replied, lowering her head slightly. Trish wasn't so quick to give up on the topic.

"No, really, what is it?" she asked, curiosity taking over her mind. 

Stacy kept her gaze down, locked on her glass of water in front of her. She just *knew* she shouldn't have opened her mouth. John was going to kill her for this.

"Well, Trish... it's just that, he doesn't mean to be such an ass to you. He just, he can't think of a good way to explain how he really feels. I've told him time and time again to just talk to you about it, but I think he feels like it's too late," she explained.

Even though Trish was *very* confused, what Stacy said made sense in a way. After all, if John really didn't hate her, it would explain why he had been acting so weird recently. It would also explain his actions the other week. Although it seemed plain as day now, she just didn't see it before. She felt as though she were so blind for not picking it up before. He didn't stop to help her just because he felt that he had to. It was so obvious now...

"Are you saying that he likes me?" she asked, a hint of what Stacy swore to be hopefulness in her tone. She glanced down for a moment, swirling around the ice in her drink.

"He does, he really does," she replied, nodding firmly. Trish kept her gaze on Stacy for a moment before turning away and glancing around the room. When she brought her eyes back to her best friend, she questioned her.

"Are you sure?" she asked. She didn't want to sound so skeptical of the idea, but she wouldn't put it past John to play a joke on her like that. Stacy smiled softly, nodding again.

"I'm positive Trish. If I thought he was only messing around, I wouldn't have even bothered to tell you. What he feels is real. I can see it in his eyes... he just looks... genuine," she explained.

Trish felt a grin forming on her face, and she had no idea why. This was John Cena they were talking about. Even if he *did* really like her, it made no difference. He was an asshole and for that, she shouldn't even give him a second look...

So why did she all of a sudden get butterflies in her stomach?

Trish placed a hand on her stomach gently, willing the feeling to go away. Those butterflies weren't the nervous kind. They were the kind you got when you brushed up against a gorgeous guy walking down the street, the kind that you got when you got asked out in high school... the kind you got when you could feel yourself falling for someone. She couldn't allow herself to feel that way, not after she had vowed to despise John Cena for the rest of her life. It just wouldn't be right...

"Well, speak of the devil..." Trish heard Stacy say. 

When she snapped herself out of her daze and glanced over at her friend, she noticed that the young woman had her eyes locked on someone else, somebody standing behind them. Trish turned around as Stacy smiled with satisfaction, knowing that her plan was going smoothly. When Trish turned around to see who was behind her, her eyes widened slightly...

The person was none other than John Cena.

**Hey guys! Sorry I took so long for the update, but I've just been so busy. Also sorry that this chapter is kinda short, but I'll try and make up for it next chapter.  Hope ya like it!!**


	5. Part 5

PART 5

Trish's face wore an expression of great confusion as she glanced over at John, who had an equally puzzled look on his face. Stacy grinned as she watched the two stare at each other, her trance broken when she heard John speak.

"Woah... Stace, what is this?" he asked, gesturing to Trish. "You told me you needed me to come talk." 

Whenever Stacy had called him in the past to come talk to her, it was usually - no, *always* - just the two of them. None of his friends, none of her friends... that was the way they liked it, especially considering the fact that their friends didn't always get along. So why, then, was Trish sitting right across from her, in *his* seat? Stacy's face still wore a wide grin.

"I know I did John, but I didn't me that I wanted you to come talk to *me*," she replied, her gaze casually slipping over to Trish. John put his hands up in protest, immediately realizing just why Stacy had called him. If she thought for one second that she could trick him into having a talk with Trish Stratus, then she had another thing coming.

"Oh, no way. IT's not happening Stace," he said, shaking his head firmly. Stacy sent him a serious look, sliding out of the booth and stepping up to him.

"Yes, it is," she said plainly. Then, turning to Trish, she spoke again. "I'm sorry, but I've got to go Trish. I haven't seen Andrew in awhile, and he's probably looking for me. Call me later."

With that, the tall blonde spun on her heels, her long legs carrying her swiftly out of the cafe. John looked after her, shaking his head in disbelief. He couldn't believe she had just done that. Now what was he going to do? Trish, who was still seated at the table, stared at John, dumbfounded. Her brown eyes remained whide as the young man shook his head once more, plopping down in the seat across from Trish, but not daring to so much as pass a glance in her direction. The two sat for minutes in what had to be the most uncomfortable silence known to mankind, before Trish finally decided to break the ice.

"I-I had no idea she was going to do this," she said, trying to shy away from any catty remarks she had in her head. The Canadian diva wanted to make it perfectly clear to Cena that she had *nothing* to do with the two of them being left alone. She could've killed Stacy at the moment.

"Yeah, I know you didn't," he replied, still not looking at her. "Lord knows you'd never allow yourself to be seen in public with the likes of me. Can't do anything to damage your reputation." Trish scowled... boy, things were certainly off to a wonderful start.

"Can you blame me?" she shot back, hurt and anger filling her eyes. "You haven't given me any reason to anywhere *near* nice to you. Why should I even give you the time of day?" John finally brought his gaze up to Trish, smirking and shaking his head.

"I'm surprised you'd even have a spare moment where you weren't preoccupied being such a bitch to even *check* the time!" he retorted.

Trish's angry gaze fell as she felt a pang in her heart. She was very confused at the feeling, not because of its sudden emergence, or because of the physical pain, but because her heart actually wrenched at John's comments. After all of the insults - tons far worse than the one just said - that he had slung at her, none had ever bothered her. BUt now, because she had let her guard down after hearing what Stacy told her about John's *real* feelings, the unthinkable had happened...

John Cena had hurt her feelings.

John noticed the pained expression immediately, but instead of furthering his attacks, his head dropped. He adjusted his hat, worrying that if Trish were to look up at him, she would see the concern and shame filling his eyes. He couldn't afford to give up the facade, not now, after all he had done to build it up. The only problem with that was that he wasn't so sure he *wanted* to be that way anymore. The thought that he could push anybody, especially someone as easy going as Trish Stratus, into absolutely despising him scared John. When he finally managed to let the concern drain out of his expression, he looked back up, noting that Trish was staring at him.

"Why are you such an ass if you don't have to be?" she asked sadly. "John, Stacy told me about your friendship, about the talks you guys have had. What have I done? What did I do that was enough to make you be so mean to me when you're so nice to her?"

John's eyes widened slightly at the mention of Stacy. He wondered just how much she had told Trish, but at the same time, he wasn't sure he even wanted to know. As if he hadn't confused Trish, and himself for that matter, enough the night he had helped her out at the club, any discussions on his actual feelings for her would only further that confusion. Standing up abruptly, John stepped out of the booth, putting on as cold of an expression as he could manage before speaking once more.

"I guess I just don't like you, Trish."

LATER THAT NIGHT

Trish slowly approached her hotel room door, digging in her purse for the keycard. When she reached the door she had still not located the card, so she paused, rummaging through her gym bag as well. She groaned with annoyance as she suddenly realized that it had been in her pocket the whole time. She slid the card into the slot, yawning as she waited for the green light to appear. She had spent a good few hours after the disaster in the cafe with John Cena moping around in her room. The events of her day had certainly put her in a sour mood. Instead of sitting around in her room moping all night, Trish decided to exude her energy in a more positive way... so, she went to the gym. 

After spending nearly two hours in a local gym, she was sweaty, exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to go to bed. Her long yawn finally coming to an end, Trish pulled the keycard out of the slot. She pushed  down the handle and pulled the door open, her eyes widening in shock as she watched a hand come out from behind her and push the door shut. Her stomach dropped as she wondered who in hell was standing behind her. She slowly turned around, meeting a pair of fierce blue eyes.

"J-John?" she said, in a tone that was half questioning, half startled. Sure enough, John Cena stood behind her, his eyes locking intensely with hers.

"Trish," he said plainly. 

Trish merely stared at him, her brown eyes wide as she wondered what he could possibly want with her. After he had left her so abruptly in the hotel cafe earlier, Trish didn't think he would want to have anything to do with her. She could feel his eyes burning holes into her skin as he stared at her, his gaze not wavering for a second. The intensity on his face was so strong it was almost frightening. She chewed her lip nervously, her hand gripping the door handle so tightly she was positive her knuckles were turning white.

"Um... can I help you?" she asked, frowning at the meekness in her tone. John didn't move a muscle.

"Yeah, actually,"he replied, his voice deep and firm. "I think you can."

Trish tried to speak, but she could barely move her mouth to form words. Everything she tried to say all came out as a tiny squeak. She stood there, pressing her back up against the door, when finally, John took action, doing something she wouldn't have seen coming in a million years...

He pressed his lips roughly to hers, kissing her with all his might.

Hope you still like it! You know what to do… 


	6. Part 6

PART SIX

When John kissed her, Trish reacted almost instantly, pressing her hands up against his chest and pushing him violently away from her. But for some reason, no matter how hard she tried, no matter how much force she put into her shove, it had no effect whatsoever. He didn't even budge. Not only did he continue to kiss her, but he bit her lip, not hard enough to draw blood or really hurt her, but enough to sting her into opening her mouth so he could slide his tongue in. Trish stood there for a moment, having no clue what to do as he explored her mouth with his own. She closed hereyes as she felt his hands touch her sides, sliding down until they stopped, resting directly on her ass. John smirked as his lips continued to ravage Trish's lips, knowing full well that she was close to giving in. He lightly squeezed her ass, grinning with satisfaction as he heard a tiny whimper escape her lips.

Noticing that he had finally seemed to let his guard down, Trish pushed him away again, this time causing him to break off the kiss. He stared down at her, the same intense glare in his eyes that was there earlier in the day. Trish suddenly felt her mouth run dry, losing the ability to swallow as she felt a lump form in her throat. She reached her hand out to slap him, but froze in midair. Looking over at her hand, she noticed how badly it was shaking, and she knew she couldn't do it. She couldn't slap him. Then, losing all of her thoughts in the moment, she placed her hand around his neck, drawing him to her and pressing their lips together. John kissed her again, but this time Trish didn't try to push him away. She responded fervently, wrapping her other arm around his neck as well as she pulled him even closer to her, pressing her back up against the hotel room door. As their kiss deepened, Trish slid her hand along the door, reaching for the handle and gripping it tightly. John took note of what she was doing and stepped back, thankful that the door hadn't shut all the way when he'd stopped her from opening it a few minutes ago. She pulled the door open, yanking him in the room with her and slamming the door shut behind them. 

The second she turned around to face him again, John was all over her. He held her up against the door, his hands gripping her waist as his tongue plunged back into her mouth. Trish moved her hands to John's waist as well, her hands going underneath of his t-shirt and running over his solid abs. She grinned at the way his muscles jumped under her touch. Sliding her hands  up further, John broke the kiss long enough to help her pull his shirt off, watching Trish drop it carelessly to the floor. It was only a matter of seconds before John's lips were on her again, this time finding her neck instead of her mouth. As he kissed and lightly nibbled on her neck, Trish closed her eyes, another soft moan escaping from her.

She took a second to think about how wrong it was for the two of them to be going at it like this. They were enemies... hell, calling them enemies was an understatement. They *despised* each other. Trish didn't know what possessed John Cena to kiss her, but for some strange reason, she was finding herself glad that he did. As much as she hated to admit it, John was an extremely good kisser. And if he kept at what he was doing, she was going to lose herself... if she hadn't already done so. As her mind clouded over, she lost all desire to resist him. She couldn't hide it if she tried. She wanted it, she wanted *him* bad.

She cupped her hands around his face, drawing him back to her lips. She kissed him eagerly, pressing her body tightly against his. John broke the kiss again, sliding his hands under the hem of her shirt and yanking it up over her head. He discarded it as quickly as she had done with his, and then he looked her over, licking his lips in anticipation. He lifted her up, her legs wrapping around his waist as he turned from the door and carried her to the room. Quickly locating the bed, John walked over to it and dropped Trish on it, laying down on top of her. He looked down at her, their eyes meeting instantly. The lust and desire in his intense eyes sent chills down the blonde woman's spine. He kissed her again, his coarse hands running down the soft skin on her sides. He moved down, her lips still pursed together as his kissed his way down her chest and stomach. He paused at her stomach, reaching out and pulling at the waistband of her sweatpants. He carefully helped her slide them off, tossing them to the floor, and then resting back on his heels for a minute. He took a few seconds to run his gaze up and down her body, drinking in the sight of her.

"Damn," he muttered, shaking his head. He didn't think he'd ever met someone quite as beautiful as Trish Stratus.

Trish felt a tiny blush forming on her cheeks as she watched him check her out appreciatively, but her skin was so flushed already that she doubted he would notice. He came back to her, kissing her again, this time, very softly and almost tentatively. She wrapped her arms around him, sliding her hands down his back, noting that even the muscles back there were perfect. He was flawless, and at this point, Trish didn't even care if what they were doing was wrong. She slid her hands in front of him, undoing the button on his jeans and sliding the zipper down. All of a sudden, John stopped kissing her, and his head snapped up. Trish cupped her hands around his face and tried to bring his gaze back down to her, but he refused to move his head. Raising an eyebrow, Trish wondered what was wrong.

"John?" she questioned curiously.

Reaching his hand up, John pushed Trish's hands off of his face, shifting himself away from her on the bed. He sat up, a look of surprise and confusion on his face. Then, without a word of warning, he sprang up, bolting out of the room. Trish sat there for a moment, bewildered by his actions, before she was up and after him. She followed him to the door, but before she could catch up with him, it had already swung shut behind him. Her head dropped in disappointment, and she noticed that he hadn't even taken the time to pick up his shirt on the way out. She turned her back to the door, leaning up against as she closed her eyes in disbelief...

And two tears ran down her cheeks.

**Wow guys, I'm so glad you're liking this story so much! I have to admit, I'm getting really into it.  Let me know what you think!!**


	7. Part 7

PART SEVEN

MEANWHILE

Stacy Keibler was asleep in her hotel room, when a knock on the door stirred her awake. She opened her eyes,, glancing across the dark room at the door. Her gaze travelled over to the alarm clcok on the nightstand, which read 11:48. Okay, so it wasn't all that late, but it wasnt exactly early in the evening either. Who the hell could be at the door? Stacy didn't feel like getting up to answer it, so she turned back to her side and ignored it. She closed her eyes, thinking that whoever it was gave up, until she heard the knock again. Biting her lip, she carefully slid out of bed, glancing over at Test, who was snoring steadily. Stacy silently crept to the door, not wanting to wake him. She tentatively unlocked and opened the door, frowning when she saw who was there.

"John, are you crazy?!" she whispered harshly, eyeing John Cena angrily. "Andrew will *kill* me if he catches me talking to you!"

Normally, John would have scowled at the mention of Test's name... he wasn't too fond of Stacy's boyfriend. At the moment, though, Test was the farthest thing from his mind.

"I know Stace, and I'm sorry, but I *need* to talk to you. It's really important," he insisted, hushing his tone when the blonde woman placed a finger to her lips.

Chewing on her lip thoughtfully, Stacy sighed again, nodding and stepped out of of her room, not before glancing back towards Test once more to ensure he was asleep. She ran a hand through her hair, adjusting the sweatpants she had worn to bed as she stepped out the door.

"Alright, but hurry up," she told him, closing the door behind her, watching to make sure that it didn't shut all the way. The two of them took a few steps down the hall, and then John placed a hand on her shoulder, his skin as pale white as a ghost.

"I fucked up Stace... I fucked up big time," he said, shaking his head in sheer disappointment. He really hated himself at the moment. Concern grew on Stacy's face as she gazed up at him.

"What happened?" she asked curiously.

Before he could answer, Stacy felt her stomach drop. She knew almost automatically what this all had to be about. She thought back to earlier in the day when she had left John in the hotel cafeteria with Trish. Something must have happened between them.

"This has to do with Trish, doesn't it?" she questioned knowingly. John met her eyes, nodding shamefully.

"Yeah... it does."

"What did you do?" she asked, frowning slightly.

"Well," he said slowly, "it's not so much what I did, but what I *didn't* do." Stacy raised an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?" she asked, confused.

"I kind of, um... well..."

"Spit it out John, I don't have a lot of time," she warned softly. John nodded, taking a deep breath before he again tried to elaborate.

"Okay, I went to her - Trish's - hotel room tonight. She was at the door, trying to get in, I guess. I was going to apologize to her for being a jerk in the  cafeteria earlier, but I didn't get to it. Something just... came over me, and I kissed her. At first, I thought she was gonna haul off and hit me for touching her. But she got into it eventually, and then we both kinda lost it. Next thing I knew, we were half naked in her bed, making out," he explained.

Stacy's eyes were wide with surprise at his description of what had happened. She had been hoping and wishing that the two would have a shot at getting along, but not in her wildest dreams could she envision them getting along *that* well.

"And?" she asked.

"And," he said hesitantly, looking away. "I... I choked."

"You choked?" Stacy asked curiously, not sure of what he meant. 

"Yeah?... I just got... nervous, all of a sudden. I don't know why, but I just felt like I had to get out of there. So, I left," he admitted.

"You left?!" Stacy asked in disbelief, inadvertently raising her voice. "John, what's the matter with you?! You had the chance to not only tell Trish, but *show* her how you feel about her, and you blew it!" John lowered his head shamefully.

"I know! Stacy, I didn't mean for things to end like that, but it just happened. I didn't even realize what I was doing till I was halfway out the door, and then it was too late to turn back. That would've made matters worse than they already are," he insisted seriously. He would never intend to hurt *any* woman like that, even if it was a woman he didn't get along with. Shaking her head, Stacy eyed John in sheer disappointment.

"Well, you were right when you said you fucked up. What do you want me to do?" she asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest. John shrugged, drawing his gaze back up to her.

"I don't know... if you just talk to her or something, let her know I didn't mean to leave her like that. I got to get back on the road with Smackdown tomorrow, and I'm leaving first thing in the morning. But I want... I *need* her to know that I didn't mean for shit to go down that way. Please Stace, just tell her for me," he requested.

John's appearance - the pleading tone in his voice, the distraught look in his eyes - almost made Stacy smile. It was clear to her that he really was sorry for leaving Trish... and if he was really sorry for what he did, he had to truly care about her.

"Okay... I'm not guaranteeing that she'll listen, but it's worth a try. I'll talk to her in the locker room tomorrow," she said. John sent her a small smile of relief, reaching out to give her a tight hug.

"Thanks so much Stace," he said quietly, letting go of their embrace. "You're the best. Alright, I'll let you get back to bed now. Talk to you later."

Smiling, Stacy waved goodbye, watching John disappear down the hall, in the direction of his room. Her smile slowly faded as she thought of the talk she was going to have to have with Trish the next day. It was going to take a lot of work to get Trish accept John's apology, especially considering the fact that it wouldn't be coming from him personally. Stacy sighed as she headed back to her room. She really wanted things to work out for Trish and John. She knew how much John liked Trish, and she knew that - as much as she vehemently denied it - Trish could have the same feelings. It was just so difficult to be such good friends with both of them, to hear to different stories every time something happened. Shaking her head, Stacy pulled her door open, and gasped...

Standing in the doorway, glaring at her with angry eyes, was Test.

**I know I've said this before, but thanks so much for all the reviews guys! You're turning this into one of my favorite stories to write, and I hope ya'll like reading it as much!**


	8. Part 8

PART EIGHT

Stacy's eyes widened as Test looked her over. She knew it was only a matter of time before he would snap. He narrowed his eyes at her, crossing his arms over his massive chest.

"Where the hell were you?" he asked quietly, his tone flat.

"Andrew! I... I can explain," she told him quickly.

"Yeah? Get to it then," he threatened, taking a step in her direction.  Stacy instinctively took a step back before speaking.

"I... there was a knock on the door, and you didn't wake up, so I went to answer it," she told him, hoping that he would be satisfied leaving the explanation at that. She knew, however, that the chances of him dropping the subject were slim to none.

"And?" he said, waiting for her to continue. Taking a deep breath, Stacy's mind worked frantically at thinking up an acceptable answer to his question.

"And... it was Trish. She was upset about something and she had to talk to me about it," she lied, trying her best to keep a straight face. Test stared at her, uncrossing his arms and placing them on his waist.

"Trish..." he repeated. "Trish, huh?" Nodding, Stacy offered him a small smile.

"Yeah... she told me that she was sorry for waking me up, but she was really frustrated, and really needed to talk to me. She's... she's been having some guy problems lately," she explained.

Stacy hated how easy it had become for her to lie on the spot like this. She wasn't the type of person that could lie to anyone before, but with Test there came times where she *had* to make up stories to keep herself out of trouble. The sad part about that was that she wasn't ever doing anything wrong. He hadn't always been so anal about knowing where she was and what she was doing all the time, but it seemed as though ever since he started teaming with Scott Steiner, his personality changed entirely. He had become so irritable, and *extremely* temperamental. Taking a step forward, Test backed Stacy up to the door, locking eyes with her and giving her a questioning gaze.

"Are you sure?" he asked, cocking his head to the side. Looking up at him, Stacy nodded her response.

"Yes Andrew, I'm sure," she said, offering yet another smile. Test nodded, patting Stacy on the shoulder and turning around. 

Breathing a silent sigh of relief, Stacy followed after him, stopping dead in her tracks when he turned around to face her again. He held her up against the door, lowering his head to hers.

"If I find out you're lying to me I'll have your fucking neck Stacy," he whispered harshly in her ear. "Got it?"

Nodding furiously, Stacy slid out of his grip and swiftly headed back into the bedroom. Andrew had never hit her before, but she knew it was only a matter of time before he snapped, and she didn't want to be around when he did. Test watched after her, a scowl forming on his lips. She was lying, and he knew it.

Stacy could pretend all she wanted... hell, she could swear on her _life_ that she was talking to Trish a minute ago, but he knew better. Little did she know, but he had been at the door the entire time, and the voice Stacy was speaking to was *not* a female's. In fact, he could tell almost right away who the distinct voice belonged to. He wasn't sure what was going on between his girlfriend and John Cena, but he didn't like it, and he was *going* to find out.

THE NEXT DAY

Chris Jericho stepped into the catering room of the arena, his tag team partner Christian by his side. The two made their way to the food, grabbing plates and piling food onto them. Then, they made their way to a table, dropping the plates down and taking a seat. Chris stopped suddenly before sitting down, having something - rather, _someone_ - catch his eye.

"What is it?" Christian asked, turning to see what his friend was looking at. He noticed Trish Stratus sitting by herself in the back of the room, a deep frown on her face. A look of great concern forming on his face, Chris turned back to Christian.

"I"ll be right back," he said, patting him on the shoulder and leaving him and his food at the table, making his way over the blonde woman.

"Trish?" he called as he approached her. "Trish, you okay?" The Canadian diva glanced up at him, looking slightly surprised to see him. 

Trish and Chris had always been close, but lately they had drifted slightly. Their crowds changed, and, as a result, the two of them seemingly changed right along with them. Even though their friendship had faltered a bit, Chris still cared a great deal about her, and wanted to know what had gotten her so upset.

"No," Trish replied, sighing.  

She was in *such* a bad mood that she wasn't even able to lie about it. Her gaze switched to the floor, focusing in on the tiled floor and locking on it. Chris sat down next to her, leaning forward and resting his arms on knees. 

"What's wrong?" he asked, worry gleaming through his blue eyes.

"Chris, I'm really not in the mood to talk about it," she replied, burying her face in her hands. His eyes still locked on her, Chris hesitantly lifted his arm and placed it gently on around her shoulder, relaxing a bit when she didn't move away.

"Okay... you don't have to if you don't want to," he said, resting back on the couch. He sat there for a minute in silence, not sure of what to do next.

"Hey guys, what's going on?" a third voice cut in, and the two of them looked up to see Stacy Keibler standing in front of them.

"Hey Stace," Chris said, smiling softly at her. Trish, however, looked much less thrilled to see the leggy blonde.

"Hi Stacy," she said dryly.  Stacy frowned as her best friend's tone. She knew exactly why Trish 

was acting so coolly towards her. She knew that what happened the night before with John had to sting, and she felt partly responsible for it, seeing as how it was her idea for the two of them to be left alone in the first place. Sighing, she kneeled down in front of Trish, placing her hands on her knees.

"Hey, I know what happened last night," she said, pausing as Trish's head snapped up. "And... I'm sorry. I didn't think things would go as far as they did." Trish's gaze softened, but only slightly.

"I'm sure you didn't," she replied. Stacy frowned, a slightly hurt look crossing her features.

"Trish, please, just listen. I realize that maybe setting you and John up like that was a bad idea, but I really had no idea things would get so out of hand. You have to understand that. I really am sorry," she said. 

"I know you're sorry Stacy, and I forgive you... it's just, this whole thing is making me feel so stupid. I'm sitting here and I'm obsessing over this like it's the end of the world, and he probably doesn't even care. He's off with the Smackdown roster now, doing whatever it is he does with them," Trish said, shaking her head.

"If it's any consolation, John came to my hotel room last night, and he told me to tell you that he's sorry for the entire thing. He said he didn't know what came over him, and that by the time he realized what he was doing, it was too late to turn back," she explained, hoping that Trish would find it somewhere in her heart to forgive him.  Chris, who up until that point had been watching in silence, turned his gaze to Stacy. A perplexed look forming on his face, he questioned her.

"What did John do?" he asked, a hint of both worry and anger in his tone. 

Stacy's gaze dropped to the floor, partially in shame, partially in embarrassment. She gave Chris a basic overview of what happened, trying her best to leave out any sensitive details so as not to hurt Trish, but she knew it was already too late for that. By the time she had finished her short story, Chris was just about fuming.

"That little bastard..." he muttered angrily, "I'll get him for this. I'll kill him... I'll..."

"You'll do nothing," Trish cut in, her tone firm. "This has nothing to do with you, and - even though I hold you responsible for this mess starting - nothing to do with *you* either." She pointed to Stacy before standing up and leaving the room in a huff.

Chris sighed as he turned back to Stacy, his gaze skeptical. He had known a few days ago when she told him her idea that it wouldn't work. He knew she meant well, but sometimes Stacy had a tendency of thinking too much with her heart and not enough with her head. That plan of getting John and Trish together had failure written all over it from the beginning. He had insisted that she think of something different, an alternate way of getting the two together other than leaving them alone, but she hadn't listened. She had really hurt Trish's feelings, and she knew it. Chris felt bad for Stacy, and the guilt-ridden gaze on her face made him want nothing more than to hug her, but at the time, he had to say what needed to be said.

"I hate to say this Stacy, but you screwed everything up for them," he told her, hoping he wouldn't hurt her feelings too much.

"I know I did, Chris," she said, her head hanging low. "I just thought that there was a chance, and..."

"There isn't," Chris replied, shaking his head. "I want to see them together just as much as you do Stace, but lets face it... John Cena and Trish Stratus are not meant to be."

**Hope you're still enjoying it!!!  I have lots in store for this story, so keep checking it out and keep reviewing.  Oh, and a little side note, to the person who reviewed asking why I don't finish a story before I start a new one (I'm pretty sure you're name was Dana).  Well, that's because I like writing, and if I limit myself to one story, I get bored.  If you can't deal with that, I'm sorry, but that's how I am. =)**


	9. Part 9

Rob Van Dam slowly strolled down the halls, his Intercontinental Title belt in his hands. He was in search of Booker T, the man who would be his partner in a tag team match later that night on Raw. He found the locker room he knew Booker was sharing with a few of the boys and stopped in front of it. He raised his hand to knock, when he saw something out of the corner of his eye. He paused, his hand in midair as he turned to see who it was. His gaze rested upon Trish Stratus, who was sitting on an equipment crate outside the nearby women's locker room, her head resting in her hands. Raising an eyebrow in concern, Rob decided that his strategy talk with Booker T would just have to wait. He slowly approached Trish, his steps becoming almost hesitant as he neared her. He and Trish hadn't talked in awhile, but he still thought of her as a sister, and it was clear to him that she was hurting. 

"Trish?" he asked tentatively. 

Trish's head snapped up at the sound of the voice. She hadn't been paying close attention to her surroundings, so she couldn't immediately match the voice to a person, but she *did* know that it indeed belonged to a male. She sighed loudly, wondering who of all people it could be. She was expecting to see Chris Jericho - he hadn't gotten off of her case about the issue since the day he became aware of it - but when she looked up to see Van Dam in front of her, her gaze softened considerably. She hadn't spoken to Rob in so long, yet it was almost comforting to see such a familiar face... one that didn't belong to Jericho or Stacy Keibler. 

"Hey Rob," she said quietly, picking at one of her nails. Taking a seat next to her, Rob watched her intently. 

"What's the matter?" he asked, placing his belt down next to him. 

"I don't think you even want to know Rob," Trish said, laughing dryly. The more she thought about it, her situation with John Cena did, in a very twisted sense, have a very comical air to it. 

"That scares me," Rob told her, shifting slightly so he was more comfortable. "That automatically means something's wrong. Come on, what's going on? Where have you been the last few weeks?" 

Sighing, Trish responded, "It's a very long story Rob... to make it quick, my entire life has been pretty much occupied by, of all people, John Cena."  

Rob stared at her, his forehead wrinkling in confusion. He knew he hadn't had a real conversation with Trish in quite some time, but she had made it clear awhile ago that she would *never* even give Cena a second thought. Now he was, as she put it, occupying her entire life? 

"Woah, what? John Cena? You guys are together?" he asked in disbelief, his mouth dropping in shock. Shaking her head furiously, Trish took a hold of Rob's hand. 

"No! We're far from it!" she answered quickly, the thought of being in a relationship after what he did to her making her want to vomit. 

"Well than what the hell is going on?" 

Trish suddenly found her gaze locking on the floor again, her cheeks reddening slightly. She couldn't believe that she was actually *embarrassed* by what happened, but she was. She was completely mortified, and everytime she told the story, heard Stacy tell someone, or even thought about it, she was repulsed. To think that she put her trust in that man... 

"It's... it's nothing Rob. We just had some issues recently, but I think they're over with. He... he kissed me the other night, but it didn't lead to anything," she explained. 

"Well, do you still hate him?" Rob asked. 

He got the feeling that Trish wasn't telling him the entire story, that she was leaving out a few important details. Something like that may have bothered her for a little while, but there was no way in hell she would allow a simple kiss to take over her life like she was. 

"Yeah, of course I do," she replied. 

"Then what's the problem?" he asked curiously. Trish frowned, glancing over and meeting his eyes. 

"The problem, Rob, is that I think I love him too." 

*                      *                      *                      * 

Later that day, Chris Jericho sat in his locker room, taping up his wrists in preparation for his match that night. He glanced up casually as the door opened and jumped as Test stormed in, pulling Stacy Keibler along with him. He came to a halt in front of Chris, a murderous gleam in his eyes. 

"You have two seconds to tell me what the fuck is going on between you two," he growled, his tone dripping with disdain. Chris stopped with his wrist, ripping the tape off and tossing the roll to the floor. He stood slowly, glancing up to meet Test's angry eyes. 

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he replied calmly, despite nearly wincing at the look of absolute terror on the face of Stacy. 

"Don't play dumb shit with me Jericho, you know exactly what I'm talking about!" Test snapped, spitting with anger. "Steiner told me he saw the two of you talking, alone, on numerous occasions. And to think this whole time I thought it was John Cena I was going to have trouble with. *You* are supposed to be my friend, and friends don't touch their friends' women." 

"I *am* your friend Test," he said, though on the inside he despised the man. The only reason he even *pretended* to be friends with him was so he could keep a closer watch on Stacy. "I would never touch Stacy." 

"Please," he snorted. "I see the way you look at her. Don't try and tell me you don't want her. I'm willing to bet that the other night when she," he paused, yanking on Stacy's arm, "told me she was with Trish, she was actually with you!" 

Chris looked away quickly, knowing that he wasn't going to be able to keep up the front much longer. Stacy hadn't lied when she told Test she was going to be with Trish, but she didn't mention that Chris would be there as well. He glanced back up at him, his gaze hardening.

"Look man, I don't know what the fuck you're thinking, but there's no way I'd touch your girlfriend! Steiner's lying out of his ass!" he cried. He hated that he had to be so harsh in front of Stacy, but it seemed to be the only way to get the point across to this baboon. 

"You're the one lying out of your ass Chris, and when I find some proof that she's screwing around on me, I'll have your..." 

"He's telling the truth man," another voice called, as Test, Chris, and Stacy all turned to see Christian standing in the doorway. He slowly made his way into the room, walking up to the three people. "Chris wouldn't touch Stacy."

"Why the hell should I believe you?" Test asked, scoffing arrogantly. "You'd lie for him... he's your best friend." 

"Well, yeah, but I don't need to lie for him," he said, suddenly realizing just how he could appeal to Test. "But really, why would he even need Stacy? He's got about 4 girlfriends right now as it is. The man's a pimp." Christian grinned slyly, hoping that the tactic he was using would work. 

"Is that so?" Test asked, his gaze softening slightly as he eyed Chris expectantly. 

"I, uh..." 

"Totally! Dude, you should see him when we go to clubs... the women are all over him! He's practically got to fight the rest off with a bat when he finds out which one he wants to take back to the hotel!" Christian said, patting Chris on the shoulder. "Isn't that right buddy?" 

Chris smiled weakly as he glanced over at Stacy, who was looking over at him with a look of hurt in her eyes. Test finally grinned, laughing loudly and smacking Chris on the back. 

"No shit... sorry about that man. And good luck with the broads!" he called over his shoulder, yanking Stacy out of the room with him. After he disappeared out the door, Jericho turned to Christian, glaring at him as though he was going to tear him to pieces. 

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" he cried. "Are you crazy?! Why would you say something like that in front of her?" 

"Look man, I just saved your ass, okay? I'm sure Stacy will understand if you explain it to her," Christian replied in a hushed tone, trying to calm his friend down. 

"I'm sure she will too, but I wouldn't have to defend myself against something that isn't even true if you hadn't said anything," he said in a much calmer tone. He knew that Christian wasn't the one he was *really* mad at anyway. 

Christian frowned... he knew that the comments he made would be risky considering the already rough nature of Chris and Stacy's relationship, but if he hadn't said something, he knew that Test and Steiner would be ready to beat the living shit out of him. He was only doing what he thought had to be done to protect his friend... 

He just hoped he hadn't jeopardized his chances with Stacy. 


	10. Part 10

PART TEN 

3 DAYS LATER

Rob Van Dam again found himself sauntering down an empty arena hallway, searching for a certain someone. He was, in a way, glad that the halls were empty. Had anyone seen him here, it would cause great speculation among the wrestlers. When he finally reached the door he was looking for, he stopped in front of it and knocked. Then, he pushed the door open and made his way inside.

"Rob Van Dam... what are you doing here?" Stephanie McMahon, the Smackdown general manager asked. She eyed Rob carefully, wondering just why he was standing in her office.

"Hey Stephanie," he called, closing the door behind him. "Listen, I was wondering if you could do me a favor." Her eyes still locked curiously on him, Stephanie sighed.

"Look, if you're here about switching to Smackdown, I'm afraid there's nothing I can do. You're locked into your contract over on Raw, and I'm not allowed to snatch you up until..."

"Woah, what?" Rob asked, raising an eyebrow. "Steph, I don't want a contract. No offense, but I like it on Raw, even with that punk Bischoff as a boss. I just wanted to know if you'd be able to tell me where I can find John Cena."

Stephanie's head shot up at the mention of Cena's name. John had become one of the top Superstars on her show over the past few months, but as of late, she was worried about him. For the past few weeks, he just hadn't been himself. He had been quiet, reserved, and almost depressed-looking, and that certainly wasn't the personality of the John Cena she knew. Wondering if maybe RVD knew something about it, she sent him a questioning look.

"I'm sure I can find him for you, but let me ask you a question first. Why do you need to talk to him?" she asked.

"It's kind of personal, Steph.  Let's just say that he and I have some business to take care of," Rob said flatly. Noting the seriousness in his almost always mellow tone, Stephanie frowned.

"Please Rob... I'm hoping you can tell me just why John's been acting so funny lately. He hasn't been himself, and his work is starting to suffer. I can't afford that, not when I'm striving to make Smackdown the best brand possible," she explained, pleading to him with her eyes.

"Well, to be honest, I'm not that sure. But I do know that it has something to do with Trish, and I..."

"Stratus?" Stephanie interrupted, her brow raising curiously. Rob nodded. "Are you sure? I thought they hated each other."

"So did I. I mean, it was news to me when Trish brought it to my attention Monday, but apparently there's something going on with the two of them. And the something is bugging the hell out of Trish. Her work has been suffering lately as well," he noted.

"Wow... that would explain it," she said, her eyes widening at the sudden revelation. No wonder John had been walking around like a love-sick puppy dog for the last few weeks... he *was* one. When Rob sent her a confused look, she elaborated. "For the longest time now he's just looked so empty, like he was missing something. I thought maybe it'd be a woman, but *never* in my wildest dreams would I imagine it being Trish. Funny how things work out."

"Yeah, I guess it is... look, Steph, Bischoff will flip if word gets to him that I'm here. Could you just get me to Cena, please?" he requested, glancing around almost nervously. It wasn't so much that he was afraid of what Eric would do to him, but afraid of what he could get someone *else* to do. Nodding, Stephanie got up from her desk, heading over to the door. 

"All the way down the hall, last door on the left," she said, opening the door and gesturing with her pen. "He should be alone."

"Alright, thanks a lot Stephanie," Rob said, patting the young woman on the shoulder.

*                      *                      *                      *

John Cena sat in his locker room, lacing up his boot. He paused halfway through, his mind drifting for what had to be the millionth time that week. He couldn't believe how fucked up his love life was right now. He had vowed to himself at the beginning of his career that he would *never* let a coworker get to him like Trish was now. So much for that idea. Now more than ever, he couldn't get the blonde woman off his mind. The more he sat and thought about it, the more silly he found the way he had acted towards Trish up until recently. For well over a year he had pretended to hate her, all for the sake of keeping his promise to himself. It got to a point where he didn't want to keep it anymore.  He could deny it no longer...

He was in love with Trish Stratus.

As wrong as he knew it was, he blamed the whole mess in its entirety on Stacy Keibler. He told her time and time again not to set them up, that it was a disaster in the making, but the leggy blonde refused to listen. She was so damn insistent on the two of them getting together. He really hated her right now...

Who was he kidding? The only person in the world that he truly hated right now was himself. He hated himself for being mad at Stacy, when all she was trying to do was help him. He hated himself for going along with her plan. Most of all, though, he hated himself for leaving Trish in her hotel room the other night. He had the perfect chance to not only tell Trish, but *show* her how he felt, and he passed it up. He choked, and the opportunity of his lifetime slipped through his fingers like grains of sand. As much as he hated to admit it, he was scared. He had never had such intense feelings for *any* woman before, let alone one he knew very well might return them. He sighed wistfully, resting back in his seat and closing his eyes, rubbing them tiredly. If only he could just disappear...

"Excuse me..."

The sound of a throat clearing, followed by those words caused John to look up, his eyes narrowing in surprise as he saw RVD standing in the doorway of the locker room.

"What do you want?" he asked. He hadn't meant for the question to come out so coldly, but he didn't really know what else to say? What could you say to a man you knew hated you and were most certainly not expecting to see?

"I wanted to have a talk with you," Rob said, inviting himself in, closing the door behind him, and taking a seat across from the younger man. "Look, before you get all jumpy, I'm not here to attack you."

"Good..." John replied, still a little skeptical.

"But, if I don't get the answer I want, that could very well be arranged," he said, his tone lowering dangerously. "Just know that you're on thin ice with me, pal."

"I got that much," John muttered. At this point, he wasn't even up for arguing with anyone anymore. His spark was out. "What do you want to talk to me about?"

"I'm sure you already know, but it's Trish," Rob said, noticing the way John's eyes softened even more at the mention of her name. "She's really upset about whatever it is that happened between you to. *Real* upset. She's been sulking about for the last week, and I hate seeing her like that."

"Look, I told Stacy to apologize for me, but I just..."

"Yeah, I'm sure she did too John, but Trish needs to hear it from you," he explained, his voice raising slightly. Then, he reminded himself that he didn't want anyone to know he was there, so he calmed himself down before continuing. "Look dude, for God only knows what reason, Trish has feelings for you. Do you have the same for her?"

"I... well... yes," he admitted, his eyes transfixing on the floor. Rob nodded, crossing his arms in front of him.

"Alright... then why the hell would you do what you did?" he asked. He hated that he still had no clue just what it *was* that John did, but at this point, he didn't care. He just wanted it fixed.

"Look, you wouldn't understand, alright? I know you and Trish are close, but that's between me and her, and if you got a problem with it..."

"Listen you little prick," Rob said, jumping up and grabbing John by his throwback. "You know how calm I normally am, so I'm sure you can only *imagine* how pissed off I have to be to make me act like this. It just so happens that I *do* have a problem with it, and *you* are going to make it right."

"Alright, alright," John replied, glancing up at Van Dam with wide eyes as he loosened himself from his grasp. "Chill, chill... I'll talk to her."

Letting go of him, Rob turned a way, the deep scowl still present on his face. He headed to the door in a huff, only semi-satisfied with the way their conversation had gone. When he reached the door, he turned back to John, locking eyes with him in an intense stare.

"You have my personal invitation to come to Unforgiven, our next pay-per-view. You have till then to make this mess with Trish right. I better see you there, and I better see Trish happy, or your ass is mine."

**I'm so glad ya'll still are enjoying this! I can't tell you how happy I am with all the reviews.  Please keep them coming!**


	11. Part 11

PART ELEVEN

****

SEPTEMBER 21, 2003 - UNFORGIVEN

Chris Jericho sat in his locker room, his eyes intently locked on the television screen as he watched the match occurring in the ring. Actually, it wasn't so much the match in the ring that he had his eye on, but the woman standing *outside* the ring. Stacy Keibler, standing outside the ring as Test battled with the 'Genetic Freak' Scott Steiner. _'Freak' is right,_ Chris thought to himself as Test nailed Steiner with a hard right. Steiner claimed to have asked for a match against Test so that he could free Stacy from his clutches, but Chris knew better. That man was just as much a freak - if not more - as Test. Chris didn't want Stacy getting shoved from one controlling bastard to another...

Which was why the two of them carefully plotted her a way out.

The two of them had discussed the plan over and over again. It was a simple, yet extremely clear, way for Stacy to show to both Test and Scott Steiner that she wanted nothing to do with either of them. Chris could see that she was incredibly nervous... Stacy had always had a distant look on her face when she was out by the ring these days, but there was more to it this time. The apprehension in her eyes was so severe, he only hoped that Test didn't take notice to it.

A few minutes later, he watched Test hop out of the ring, making a go for one of the steel chairs. Chris leaned forward in his seat, a small smirk forming on his lips... this was exactly what he had anticipated happening. He knew Test was a coward... the man didn't have enough confidence in his own abilities to beat a man with as little wrestling skills as Scott Steiner without the aid of a steel chair. He watched carefully as the referee ripped the chair out of Test's grasp, scolding him harshly as he dropped the chair, letting it fall to the mat...

Directly in front of Stacy.

Chris's eyes widened slightly in anticipation as he watched Stacy eye the metal object, the silver gleam shining through her dark eyes. She tentatively took a step forward, lightly fingering the chair with such awe that one would think she had never seen such a thing before. She carefully picked it up, pulling herself up on the apron. She gripped the chair tightly, a look of sheer determination on her face as she waited to strike.

"Come on Stace," Chris said to himself. "Just like we talked about. Hit him and get the hell out..."

As soon as he finished his statement, Stacy closed her eyes and swung, a wave of relief washing over her as she heard a loud whack, followed by the sound of a body slumping to the floor. A smirk of satisfaction spread across her lips... that would teach Andrew that she was done, that she would no longer let him drag her along through all of his little schemes. She opened her eyes, preparing to laugh right in his smug face as she ran, but her grin faded as she looked up to see Andrew standing across the ring...

She hit the wrong man.

Her eyes widened in shock as she glanced down to watch Scott Steiner struggling to stand, Test crouched down in the opposite corner, eyeing his prey viciously. As soon as Steiner made the mistake of turning around, Test charged, nailing him with a Big Boot. He dropped to his knees, pinning him 1, 2, 3 in the center of the ring. Stacy froze, suddenly losing all ability to move as she met eyes with Andrew, who was giving her a murderous glare. Back in the locker room, Chris had jumped out of his seat, screaming at the television.

"Get out of there!" he yelled, his face twisting with worry. He saw Test making a move towards Stacy, the blonde woman still apparently frozen in fear. Stacy was in trouble, and if he didn't get to her soon, something terrible could happen... and it would be all his fault.

A LITTLE WHILE LATER

Rob Van Dam checked the signs on each of the doors he passed as he quickly made his way down the hallway, kicking up his pace a notch every time he stepped. He stopped abruptly as he saw a hallway he had not yet turned down, immediately following the path... and bumping directly into Bubba Ray Dudley.

"Hey man, watch where you're going," Bubba said jokingly, patting Rob on the back. "Why are you in such a hurry anyway? I thought for sure you'd be in the trainer's room right now."

"Actually, that's exactly where I'm headed... only I have no clue where I'm going. Think you could help me out?" he asked, hoping he'd have more luck with Bubba's help.

"Right down there, third door on the left," Bubba replied, turning around and gesturing in the direction of the door.

"Alright... thanks dude," Rob said graciously, pushing past one half of the newly crowned Tag Team Champions and headed down the hall. He reached the door Bubba had pointed out, knocking twice before pushing the door open and walking inside.

Inside the room, sitting up on the table, was Lita, the trainer closely examining her mouth, which was still bleeding from her match only a few minutes earlier. In her first match since her neck surgery well over a year ago, Rob's girlfriend took a stiff boot to the mouth, causing her to nearly bite all the way through her tongue. He knew he had a match with both Jericho *and* Christian coming up shortly, but at the moment his only concern was the well being of his girlfriend. He glanced over, noticing Trish - Lita's tag team partner in their match against Molly and Gail Kim - sitting next to the redhead, her hand resting on her friend's knee, her brown eyes gleaming in concern.

"Hey," Rob said quietly, stepping up to her. "Are you alright?" Still grimacing slightly, Lita nodded, swatting the trainer's hand away.

"I'm fine... just a little blood," she offered with a small smile.

Rob wasn't so quick to believe her, so he slowly stepped forward, tentatively placing his hand under her chin and tilting her head up to him. He examined her wound carefully, wincing as he thought of how painful that had to have felt.

"Can you do anything for that?" he asked, turning to face the trainer. The young man shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head.

"Not really... its her tongue, so there's not much we can do. Just watch for swelling... it'll probably hurt tomorrow, but then it should go away. Most mouth injuries heal very quickly," he explained.

Nodding, Rob cupped his hand around Lita's neck, pulling her to him. He opened his mouth to speak, refraining from doing so when he heard a beep. He glanced down at his cell phone, which was clipped to the band of his sweatpants. He pulled it out of the rest, flipping it open and seeing that he had a new text message. He quickly scanned over the message, his eyes traveling up again, this time resting not on his girlfriend, but the blonde woman next to her.

"Trish..." he began, regarding the younger woman with a seriousness she had never before seen in his eyes. "There's someone here to see you..."

"Me?" Trish inquired, raising an eyebrow. "Who is it?"

"Just go... they should be right out in the hall," Rob instructed, gesturing to the door. 

Lita frowned, her hazel eyes fixing on the tiny blonde woman with concern. She knew exactly what was going on, and part of her wanted to stop Trish before she went out there. She had only been back on the road for a short while, but she knew enough about the situation to be leery of one of her best friend's getting her heart broken yet again. Still, she trusted Rob's judgement, and she wasn't going to stop either of them.

"Well..." Trish said, a certain tentativeness in her tone as she stood from her seat. "Okay..."

She headed out the door, but not before turning back to glance at Lita, looking for some kind of sign. She could tell by the look on her face that the redhead knew what was going on... Trish hated being left out. Sighing, she walked out the door, turning and halting abruptly as she smacked into someone. She glanced up, a soft gasp escaping her lips as a pair of blue eyes met hers...

**Thanks for the reviews guys!! You're awesome, as always!**


	12. Part 12

PART 12

"John?" she asked quietly, stepping out into the hall and eyeing him in disbelief.

Trish gazed at John curiously, blinking a few times to ensure that it was really him standing in front of her. John Cena stood before her, clutching his right arm as he shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. He glanced at her nervously, hoping that she didn't pick up on his apprehension. It wasn't like him to be nervous about *anything*, so this was most certainly not a welcome feeling.

"Yeah..." he began, clearing his throat with a cough, his eyes finding and locking on the floor. "I, uh... I was hoping you and I could talk."

He drew his gaze back up to her, studying her chocolate eyes intently. He anxiously awaited her response, taking his hand off of his arm and placing it on his hip. His lips curled down into a frown when he noticed the expression on her face transforming from disbelief to disinterest.

"You wanted to talk?" she asked, tossing a short, cross laugh into the air. "You actually think I'm going to *talk* to you? What are you on?"

"Trish, please," he requested, reaching up and taking off his hat, smoothing out his hair before placing it on again, this time backwards. "I just want a few minutes to... explain myself."

"A few minutes," she repeated, making an emphasis on the word minutes. "Do you *really* think that after all you've done, after all the shit you put me through, that a few _minutes _is all it's going to take to clear this up?" 

John's eyes widened slightly at her outburst. He hadn't expected her to greet him warmly, but he hadn't expected such an attitude from the blonde woman.

"Well, no, of course not, but Trish, I..."

"Save it, John!" she cried, placing a hand in his face and turning her head away. "I don't want to hear it! There's no way in hell I will *ever* forgive you for what you pulled with me, so there's no point in you even trying to explain yourself. Please, just leave me alone."

Heaving a loud, dramatic sigh, Trish moved forward, trying to push past Cena in an effort to get as far away from him as possible. John grabbed onto her, gripping her tightly and holding her still. He held her steady in front of him, ducking his head as she freed one of her hands and took a swing at him, just missing his face. She struggled for another minute or so, giving up after realizing her fighting was no match for his strength. She pulled herself out of his arms, taking a step back and glaring at him in a frustrated manner. 

"Trish, please!" he begged, reaching out for her arm again, wincing when she violently swatted it away. "All I'm asking is that you hear me out. Even if you never talk to me again, I just want you to know how I feel, which is a big reason why I acted the way I did. Don't you think you deserve to hear this?"

Trish gazed at him pointedly, pursing her lips together as she took his request into consideration. As much as she wanted to have absolutely nothing to do with the pathetic excuse of a man in front of her, she had to admit that she was extremely curious to see just what type of explanation he came up with.

"Just how do you plan on explaining this to me? Did you write up a clever rap to tell me how you really feel?" she asked, rolling her eyes. 

"What? Trish, no. I want... no, I *need* you to hear me out. I need you to take me seriously so I can tell you the truth," he insisted, his eyes pleading.

"About time someone decides to do that," she quipped dryly. 

She glanced up at him, her eyes resting on his... and them something inside her cracked. The look in his eyes was almost indescribable. He looked a mix of confused, hopeful, upset, and a whole strew of emotions that Trish found unreadable. She suddenly got the sense that she had to hear what he had to say... for *both* of them.

"Okay, listen. I'm being cold, I know, but you can't blame me for that," she said, watching carefully as he nodded. "If you really, truly want to explain this to me, and this isn't part of some big setup, I'll listen. But you have to promise me with your life that this isn't some big joke to you, because I don't think I could handle that."

"Trish, I swear on my life that this is not a setup. If it's any reassurance, Rob was the one who suggested I do this in the first place... you know he'd never do anything to hurt you. Just give me some time - let me take you for a drink or something - and I'll do my best to answer all of your questions. You have my word," he swore, placing both hands in the air.

Trish's gaze was still somewhat skeptical, but she accepted, reaching out and taking the hand he extended to her. Then, he led her down the hallway, silently praying the before the night was through, their problems would be over.

THE NEXT MORNING

John's eyes slowly fluttered open before he snapped them shut again, the brightness of the sun streaming in - even from behind the curtains - nearly blinding him. He placed his hands over his eyes, groaning in pain. He sat up quickly, immediately falling back onto the pillow as his head started spinning uncontrollably. He clutched his head again, waiting for the movement in his brain to cease. He shifted his eyes around the room, careful not to move his head, and then he realized something. He had no clue where he was, and even less of a clue how he had gotten there. In fact, the only thing he was sure of at the moment was that he had an agonizing hangover. Still clutching his head, he rose from the bed, getting up very gingerly to avoid moving his head around too much.

Once he was standing, he carefully scanned the room again. The only thing he was able to conclude was that he was in a hotel room. Raising an eyebrow curiously, he yawned tiredly, placing his hands over his ears in an attempt to stop the ringing blaring through them. Then, he felt a churning in his stomach, and jumped, making a mad dash to the bathroom. He threw the door open, dropping to his knees in front of the toilet, vomiting the second he made contact with the ground. He leaned over the bowl, keeping his head hanging in it until he purged his system of everything left in it. Once he was sure his stomach was empty, and the dry heaving had ceased, he took a deep breath, resting his head on the rim of the toilet seat.

A light breeze blew in through the open bathroom window, causing John to shiver. He placed his arms around his sides, hugging himself in a warming manner. It was then that he made a somewhat shocking discovery. His eyes widening slightly, he glanced down slowly, noticing that he was very naked.

"What the hell...?" he muttered to himself, now feeling more confused than he had since waking up.

He stood carefully, wiping his mouth as he did so. What the hell was going on? He shook his head slowly, taking a few steps over to the sink. He grabbed a cup and filled it with water, taking a long, slow sip before spitting it back out in the sink. He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, he caught glimpse of something from the corner of his eye. Cocking his head to the side, he picked the object up off of the window sill, studying it curiously. It was a razor... not just any old razor, but a *pink* one. 

Just then, it was though seeing the razor sent off a signal in his brain, and images of the night before shot through his head like a photo album. He saw himself in a bar with Trish Stratus, ordering a drink... followed by another drink, and another, and another. He recalled Trish getting so obliterated during their conversation that by the end of the night he literally had to carry her out. He had brought her back to her hotel, led her to her room and helped her into bed. Next thing he knew, he had visions of Trish forcefully pressing her lips to his, pulling him on top of her and clinging tightly to him so that he couldn't leave. He could practically feel her soft, pouty lips pressing against him, the image of her pulling off both of their clothes and wrapping her legs around him rushing through his head. He closed his eyes, wincing painfully as he recalled what happened over the next hour or so.

Walking back out into the bedroom, John looked across the room, noticing his clothes tossed into a pile beside the bed. He couldn't believe it. He had actually had sex with Trish, and he wasn't even sober enough to remember it. Shaking his head, John fought the urge to kick himself for having such a macho thought, the realization of how serious the situation was hitting him like a ton of bricks. The two of them had sex... on any normal day, the thought would have thrilled the Boston native. But he knew that had Trish not downed 5 margaritas in the few hours they were at the bar, she would have never so willingly given herself to him.

Sighing, John tossed his arms in the air, walking over to the other side of the bed, his bare feet gently padding against the carpet. He glanced on the floor beside the bed, frowning when he noticed that none of Trish's garments were there. In fact, as his eyes scanned the room, none of Trish's things seemed to be in the room.

Okay, so he was completely nude and had found a women's razor in the bathroom. Had he made up the entire encounter with Trish in his mind? He sauntered around the room, pausing at the window and pushing the curtain open to look out, his eyes finally able to withstand the brightness of the sunlight. He gazed out at the busy city below him, watching as cars bustled by and people roamed the streets. Then, a thought occurred to him. He thought back to the past few months, and his previous encounters with Trish - one in particular. All of a sudden, he knew exactly why Trish wasn't there. Once again, someone walked out...

Only this time, *he* was the one who was left behind.

A/N: Sorry for the long wait guys!!! As some of you probably already know from my most recent updates of With Open Arms, I had a really bad case of writer's block. But I'm back!! Hope you like the chapter… you know what to do!


	13. Part 13

PART 13

"You know, I think what you did was totally justifiable."

Trish's brown gaze traveled up, locking on the hazel eyes of Lita. The previous statement was the redheaded diva's response to the story she had finished telling only a few minutes ago. Trish nodded slowly, and then she took her eyes off Lita and settled them on the other woman who had been sitting with them. For some reason, Trish felt that Stacy Keibler's opinion would be just the _opposite_ of Lita's. Surely enough, it was but a matter of moments before the leggy blonde spoke up, voicing her opinion.

"Justifiable?" she questioned, a look of disbelief crossing her features. "How is sleeping with John Cena and then walking out on him a justifiable thing to do?" Lita glanced over at Stacy, sending the younger woman a look similar to the one she was receiving. 

"What do you mean how? That bastard did the same thing to her a few weeks back, not mention all the other crap he's pulled with her. It's about time he was served up a little payback!" she cried defensively.

"But this is different," Stacy insisted softly, refusing to raise her voice to the volume of the redhead's. She wanted to get her point across, but she didn't want an argument to ensue. "I do agree that John has done some shitty things in the past, but I _also_ feel that he didn't deserve this. 

Sure, he walked out on Trish, and that *was* a despicable thing to do, but at least he did so before having sex with her."

Lita stared at Stacy pointedly, and she thought about what she said. Being as close to Trish as she was, one would think she'd want to annihilate Cena for screwing around with her, literally _and_ figuratively. Lita supposed she was a bit more fiery in nature than Stacy, but she would expect her to at least be in complete defense of Trish in this situation, especially since Trish was her best friend. Just then, a thought occurred to her, and her eyebrow raised slightly.

"Why are you so defensive of John anyway?" she asked suddenly, tossing a challenging glance at her. 

Stacy looked up, her mouth gaping open slightly. For a moment, she remained silent, her gaze moving over to Trish for a second before locking intently on Lita. Her expression changed to one that almost resembled anger.

"Because Lita, he's good guy, and if people didn't spend so much time giving him such a negative attitude, maybe they'd be able to see it," she said in a huff. 

She stood, straightening out her skirt and wordlessly making her way out of the locker room. Lita watched Stacy exit the room, sighing as the door slammed shut behind her.

"What's up her ass?" she asked quietly, shaking her head.

Trish, who had said nothing since Lita and Stacy had gone off on their own discussion, glanced over at her redheaded friend, a lost look in her eyes. Lita frowned, her forehead wrinkling in concern. She gently placed a hand on Trish's shoulder, sighing again.

"Don't let it get to you. It happens sometimes," she offered with a shrug. Trish shook her head, her gaze dropping down to the blue carpet below them. 

"Not with me it doesn't, Li," Trish replied, her voice becoming slightly choked. "It may happen with some people, but I certainly didn't want to be one of them. And I *certainly* didn't want to walk out on him. I don't know what I was thinking..."

"Trish, you were completely trashed," Lita reasoned. "You know how you get when you're really drunk. You lose self control... that's all that happened here. Be thankful you got yourself out of there before John woke up."

When a few moments passed, and Trish didn't speak, Lita's gaze dropped down, studying her Canadian friend's face curiously. For someone who had seemed happy about what she'd done only minutes ago, her face sure wore a guilt-stricken look. She slid her tongue along the backs of her teeth, careful not to bump the still sore areas of her tongue as she contemplated Trish's expression. She opened her mouth to speak, but Trish beat her to the punch, turning to Lita and taking the redhead's hand in hers.

"Lita, what if I told you I don't regret what happened last night?" she asked suddenly, pulling her left hand away the 

rake in through her blonde locks. Lita's eyes widened in shock.

"How can you not regret sleeping with that repulsive letch?" she remarked with a hasty laugh. "Trish, what's wrong with you? I'd say you were more drunk than I thought... maybe still are."

Trish frowned at Lita's harsh words towards John, trying her best not to make the offense she took to the words visible. She inhaled deeply, taking a slow, long breath, noting just how nervous she was in the shaky exhale.

"That's just the thing, Lita. Last night, when John and I had sex... I wasn't drunk."

*                      *                      *                      *

Stacy mumbled to herself as she hurried her way down the hall in search of Chris. After the way Lita put John down a few minutes ago, she needed to talk to someone, and other than Trish, he was the only person who knew of their relationship. In all actuality, she needed to speak with Chris anyway. She hadn't seen him - Test, Scott Steiner, or anyone else for that matter - since the night before. After the mishap during Test's match at Unforgiven, Stacy made herself scarce. She knew Chris would worry, but she also knew she was running a big risk for both of their well beings had she stayed and went to him.

The young woman shook her head as she placed her hand in the pocket of her skirt, feeling the plastic keycard beneath her fingertips. She had rushed back to the hotel and booked her own hotel room, being sure to specifically request that no visitors be given her room number. If she knew Andrew like she thought she did, he would have figured out what she was up to and gone to the front desk asking about her. She was actually surprised he didn't rip each and every door in the hotel off by it's hinges looking for her. She supposed maybe he just didn't care.

Stacy sighed as her mind drifted off of Test and onto another blonde Canadian. She couldn't help but feel she had taken advantage of Chris over the past few months. She knew of Jericho's feelings for her, yet whenever the topic of the two of them came up, or whenever he brought up the idea of her leaving Test, she changed the subject, pushing the matter away. Fact of the matter was, she *did* like Chris, and she could actually see herself with him one day...

'One day' never seemed to want to show up.

It was just so damn impossible to get away from Test. Sure, it was easy to sneak away for a few hours while he was off with his own friends, but leaving him in general just seemed like an unreachable goal. It was pathetic, _she_ was pathetic, and Stacy knew it. No matter how many times she swore to herself she would, she refused to leave him. She just couldn't. He was always going to be there, whether it was in a hotel room, in a relationship...

In an arena hallway.

Stacy gasped as she looked up, meeting the fierce eyes of Test. Quickly pulling her hand out of her pocket, she took a step back and tossed her arm in the air, waving at him in a placating gesture.

"Andrew!" she cried, startled. "I..."

"I've been looking for you, Stacy," he said, his tone so flat and dry that it was frightening. "You pulled some pretty interesting shit last night."

"Andrew, look, I can explain," Stacy insisted, and was prepared to continue, until Test cut her off with a sharp slap to the face.

"Shut up!" he yelled, and Stacy couldn't help but let out a cry of pain, rubbing her cheek. "I don't want an explanation from you. I know what you were trying to do Stacy, and if you think you can get rid of me by whacking me in the head, think again honey. You won't leave me Stacy... I won't allow it. And if you think for a second that Jericho is going to save you..."

"Leave Chris out of this," she cut him off, pleasantly surprised at the steadiness in her voice. "He never did anything to you."

"He wants my girlfriend. That's crime enough for me to see fit to kick the living shit out of him, and I'm going to do just that the next time I see him," he said, taking a step away from her. 

Stacy eyed Test silently, knowing that now that he had said his peace, he was most likely going to leave. The Canadian man, took a step in the opposite direction, only to freeze and turn back around, facing Stacy once again.

"But for now," he said, an evil, sadistic gleam in his eye, "I'll just have to deal with you. You don't think I'm going to let you get away with what you did..."

Before Stacy had an opportunity to answer, Test raised his fist, laying into her with all his strength.


	14. Part 14

A/N: Not to sound repetitive, but a huge thanks for all the reviews, especially the in depth ones… I'm sure you know what I'm talking about.  You guys are the best!

PART 14

Trish sighed tiredly as she made her way to Rob Van Dam's locker room. She had just finished her conversation with Lita, and after discussing some things over with the redhead, she had decided that she really needed to have a talk with him. She felt that he deserved to know what happened the previous night between her and John Cena, especially considering the fact that he had set them up in the first place. She had to ensure that he heard the story from _her_, so that no one else would have the chance to twist it around before she got to him.

The more she thought about it though, the more she began to dread telling Rob the story. How would he react when she told him she walked out on John? Hell, how was he going to react when she told him she _slept_ with John? There wasn't a doubt in Trish's mind that he was going to flip, and she didn't have the energy to deal with it.

Trish froze, for the moment seriously considering turning around and marching directly back to the women's locker room. She stood still, literally swinging her head back and forth as her mind boggled her options. As she was contemplating her decision, the blonde woman heard a small sound. It was very quiet, yet distinct at the same time. Her brow raising curiously, Trish silenced herself, hoping to be able to pick up the sound a little better. She heard it again... a tiny, almost inaudible moaning sound. Trish's ears perked up, and she followed the noise as best she could. She turned a corner, and nearly tripped over the source of the sound. She glanced down, and gasped, her eyes widening in terror.

"Stacy!" she cried, dropping to her knees next to her fallen friend. 

A pained groan escaped the leggy blonde's lips as she looked up to see Trish hovering over her. If she wasn't in such tremendous pain, she would have thanked the Canadian diva for happening to find her. Trish placed a hand on Stacy's shoulder, noticing how horribly it was shaking as she did so. Stacy looked _awful_. She was lying on the ground, crunched into a fetal position. Blood was dripping from a gash on the side of her head, and Trish could see the beginnings of dark bruises forming all over her tiny body. 

"Stacy, what happened to you?!" Trish asked, her tone horrified and her skin going pale.

Stacy opened her mouth to speak, but instead of words coming out, all she managed to choke out was a tiny mumble, and a gasp for air. Trish looped an arm around her back, gingerly pulling her into a sitting position and willing her to speak again.

"Stacy, come on... who did this to you?"

The tiny blonde woman grabbed a hold of Trish's arm, leaning back against the wall and she grimaced in pain. She looked over at her, taking a few short, choppy breaths before once again attempting to reply.

"...A-Andrew..."

Almost immediately after the word left Stacy's lips, she dropped to the floor again, the severe pain caused by the beating she had just received causing everything to spin and her world to go black. Trish gasped, grasping Stacy by the shoulders and shaking her lightly, hoping to jolt her back to consciousness. It was no use... she was out, and it appeared as though she was going to stay that way. Jumping up off the floor, Trish raked a hand through her hair, her eyes darting down the hall in search of anyone who would be ready and willing to help. She had to get a hold of someone, but she couldn't just leave Stacy behind.

Just then, she heard the sounds of two familiar voices, and her heart nearly stopped. Coming from down the hall was the distinct, arrogant laughter of none other than Test and Scott Steiner. Those two pricks were probably on their way to finish the job... she had to get Stacy out of there, and quick. Thinking as quickly as her brain would allow her to, Trish bent down and picked Stacy up, doing her best to get her to stand. Once she got the blonde woman to her feet - which was not an easy task - she wrapped her arm around her, literally dragging her down the hall in a frantic attempt to get away from the approaching men. She kicked her pace up a notch when she heard the aggravated voice of Test, swearing to Steiner that he had left Stacy there. Her eyes scanned the names on locker room doors as she ran down the halls, looking for someone, anyone she felt trustworthy enough to let her in. Finally, she found just what she was looking for...

*                      *                      *                      *

Christian wrapped a towel around his waist as he emerged from the shower, stepping out into the locker room he was sharing with Jericho and heading over to his bag. He dug around for his tights and yanked them out of the bag, heading back into the bathroom. He quickly got changed and headed back out to ready himself for his match that night. When he reentered the locker room, he noted that Jericho had since woken up from the nap he was taking, the long haired man now sitting up on the leather couch across the room.

"I told you to wake me up twenty minutes ago, jackass," Chris muttered, glancing down at his watch. Now he'd have to rush if he wanted to be ready by show time.

"You just looked so pretty all curled up in a ball there, I didn't want to wake you," Christian offered with a grin and a shrug. 

Rolling his eyes, Chris stood, stretching and yawning loudly. He sauntered over to his bag, searching through it and beginning to pull out all of his ring gear. He sighed as another yawn escaped his lips. Then, there was a knock at the door, and his head shot up. He glanced over at Christian, making a gesture with his head for the taller man to answer it. Sending his best friend a cheeky grin, Christian shook his head. When another loud knock sounded through the room, Chris sighed, hopping up and heading over the door, making sure to look as annoyed as possible. When he pulled the door open, he gasped, as two blonde women literally fell through the door.

"Chris!" Trish Stratus cried, glancing up at him with terror in her eyes. "You've got to... help her..."

Chris eyes widened in horror as Stacy fell to the floor, a bloody, battered mess.


	15. Part 15

A/N: Tell me you didn't see the ending of this chapter coming…. LOL, keep the reviews coming guys!

**PART 15**

Trish lifted her head from her hands, where it had been resting as she sat in the waiting room of a local hospital. She glanced down at her watch, sighing as she noted that it had been nearly four hours since Stacy had been admitted, and just about two hours since they'd heard anything regarding her condition. Because none of them were related to her, the doctors released only a bare minimum of information, and they flat out refused to let any of them see her. Cocking her head to the side, Trish caught a glimpse of Christian, who appeared to have fallen asleep in the chair next to her. She couldn't blame him... if she was so overly worried about Stacy's condition, she supposed she'd have conked out by now as well. Her eyes aimlessly traveled around the room, incidentally settling on Chris. The blonde man was standing across the room, his back to her as he stared out the window. 

Trish glanced over at Christian one more time, patting him gently on the knee before pushing herself up from the chair. She made her way across the room, her joints aching a bit from sitting that uncomfortable chair for so long. She approached Chris very slowly, not wanting to startle him, though he looked to be so engulfed in his own thoughts that Trish didn't think it was _possible_ to scare him. She stood by his side, gazing up and studying his face. Her chocolate eyes squinted as she attempted to read his expression, unable to draw any emotion from him whatsoever. She reached out slowly, very tentatively placing her hand on his forearm. Without budging an inch, Chris took a deep breath, his exhale shaky.

"I'm scared, Trish," he spoke suddenly, catching her a bit off guard. Trish nodded understandingly.

"I know you are, Chris," she replied softly. "I am too. So is Christian, and Rob sounded pretty damn scared when I talked to him on the phone earlier. We're *all* scared, Chris, but she'll be okay. She may be tiny, but she's tough. She'll pull through."

Chris snorted, earning a frown from Trish. Her reassurance was obviously not enough to make him feel any better. Unsure of what to say, Trish drew her hand away, falling into silence. They remained that way for a good few minutes, until Chris decided to speak again.

"I should have seen this coming..." he said, wanting to kick himself. "I should have known Test would snap after what happened at Unforgiven. If I hadn't put Stacy up to attacking him, she'd be..."

"Chris Jericho, don't you _dare_ blame yourself for this!" Trish cried, shaking her head furiously. "Stacy knew what she was risking. The *only* person at fault here is that rotten piece of shit, Test."

Chris clenched his fists tightly at the mention of Stacy's attacker, slamming his right hand against the window sill. He glanced down at his now stinging hand, a somewhat sadistic gleam shimmering in his blue eyes as he imagined what that same fist was going to do to Test's smug face next time he laid eyes on that miserable excuse for a man. Words couldn't describe the pleasure Jericho would take in beatings him senseless, making him pay for his repulsive actions, for hurting Stacy...

Stacy.

The mere thought of her name caused the rage coursing through Jericho's body to drain away. His heart wrenched at the thought of her alone in a hospital bed, strange people poking at her and tending to her aching body. *He* wanted to be with her, to hold her and to let her know that things would be alright. Most importantly, he wanted to let her know how he felt about her... his *true* feelings. He couldn't accept being simply friends any longer, not after seeing how easily she could be snatched away. As he stood at the window, staring out into the cold, dark night, a stark realization hit him, nailing him like a ton of bricks. He turned to Trish - whose gaze was still locked on him - shocking her with the single tear rolling down his cheek.

"My God," he whispered, his eyes widening at his own revelation. "I'm in love with her."

*                      *                      *                      *

Another hour passed, and the three Canadians had _still_ received no word on Stacy. Christian, who had woken up about a half an hour earlier, could see the toll it was taking on his best friend, who had begun to pace back and forth wildly in the waiting room. He'd considered getting up and trying to calm him down, but he knew that at this point, any attempts to do so would be useless. He turned his head to the side, glancing down at Trish, who had since rejoined him.

"He's going mad," Christian noted, concern and worry filling his eyes. 

Trish bit her lip, examining Jericho for what had to be the hundredth time since their arrival. He was a wreck... his hair was all over the place from the yanks of frustration, the bags under his eyes were growing dark, and it was obvious that more than a few tears had been shed. Unable to stand seeing him like this any longer, Trish decided to take action.

"That's it," she said, standing up. "I'm going to the front desk. We've been here for five hours... they _need_ to let us see her."

Christian almost smiled at the fierce determination in the tiny blonde's voice, nodding as he watched her hurry off to the main lobby. Trish exhaled loudly as she made her way out of the waiting room, double doors swinging shut behind her. She really hoped whomever was working there wouldn't give her any trouble. She was irritated enough as it was... the _last_ thing she needed was a troublesome employee to deal with. Taking a deep, calming breath, Trish stepped into the main office, her breathing stopping suddenly. She saw him standing at the front desk, and her stomach dropped. Sure, his back was facing her, but what with the black pumps, dark jean shorts, blue jersey, and blue baseball cap - backwards, of course - she knew...

John Cena was in the hospital.

Narrowing her eyes at him, Trish marched up to the young superstar, grabbing him by the shoulder.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" she demanded, startling him. He glared down at her, his stare not pleased in the least.

"I could ask you the same question," he muttered, preparing to turn his back to her.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she questioned, her words catching him before he could turn away. "Stacy's my best friend... of course I'd be here to..."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't sure if you'd made a habit out of leaving people behind," he quipped, not bothering to disguise the hurt in his eyes.

Trish's gaze softened immediately and she took a few steps back. John's comment had stung, even though the tiny diva knew she deserved it. Her head lowered in shame, and she fell into silence, unable to come up with a response. John allowed his gaze to travel down to her, the image of her standing before him sending vivid images of their encounter through his mind. It amazed him how simply seeing her before him reminded him of her touch, the feel of her skin under his, the sound of her voice as she asked him for more...

John shook his head, cursing himself for having such thoughts in such a dire situation. He frowned as he glanced behind Trish to see Jericho and Christian... neither man looking all too pleased to see him.

"Yo, before you jump on me, let me explain..." he began, pausing when Jericho put a hand in his face.

"Look, Jerky. I'm _really_ not in the mood to play games. If you want to bicker with Trish, I'm afraid you'll have to do it some other..."

"Do you want to see Stacy?!" John cut him off. Chris's ears perked up, and he eyed Cena curiously.

"Of course I do, jackass, but they're only accepting visitors with family," he replied bitterly, being sure his dry comment was loud enough for those at desk to hear.

John stared at Chris intensely for a moment, simply nodding at him.

"No shit," he replied.

He turned away, turning his back to them as he approached the desk. He tapped his hands on the wooden frame, waiting for the young woman behind to come up to him. When she addressed him, he spoke, shocking the others with what he had to say.

"Excuse me, could you tell me what room Stacy Keibler's in? I'm John..... her brother."


	16. Part 16

PART 16 

Trish once again found herself sitting beside Christian, only this time, they were not in the waiting room, but a few steps away from Stacy's room. She glanced across the hall at the closed door, and she sighed. The room was so silent she could hear the large clock on the wall, ticking with each second that passed. She glanced over at Christian, noticing that he was drifting off again, his head nodding as he struggled to stay awake. Trish laughed softly, a small smile playing on her lips as she watched her friend fighting sleep. Shaking her head, she drew her gaze away, her dark eyes managing to find John Cena. 

The young man stood a few steps down the hall, his back pressed against the wall. Trish studied him for a moment, watching him as he kicked the wall repeatedly with the back of his heel. Taking a deep breath, she stood, leaving Christian behind as she decided to go talk to him. She approached him hesitantly, the butterflies in her stomach coating over the anxiety she felt in worrying about Stacy. She stepped up to him, and it wasn't until she was directly in front of him that she realized she didn't know what to say.

"Hi..." she began nervously.

At first, she thought he didn't even hear her, judging by the fact that he didn't move a muscle, let alone acknowledge her. Then, without a word, he turned to her, his blue eyes locking with hers. Trish swallowed hard, suddenly finding herself short of breath as he stared her down. She had never seen such a look in his eyes before. He looked so intense and so focused, yet so lost and frightened at the same time. She could only imagine how he must have been feeling, after hearing about Stacy and following that stunt he pulled in the lobby. Her gaze still locked with his, Trish reached out and took his hand in hers.

"I... I just wanted to say thank you. For that story you told them out there," she said softly.

"Story?" John asked, speaking for the first time. "That was no story, Trish. Stacy really is my sister."

Her expression turned confused, and she raised her eyebrow in a questioning manner. Taking a step back, she looked up at him in disbelief.

"Are you serious?"

"Very," he replied, his tone sincere. "Stacy really is my sister... well, my half sister. We have the same father. My mom and dad split up, and my dad ended up moving to Baltimore and hookin' up with Stace's mom."

Trish's mouth gaped open, her eyes wide with shock. While she was unbelievably grateful that he had shown up at the hospital, she truly thought he was making up the entire story about his relation to the blonde woman.

"Oh my God," she said in a hushed tone. "I had no idea..."

"Yeah, well, we figured it'd be best if we kept it a secret. Actually, I don't think Stacy would have cared, but I preferred it that way. Our circles of friends aren't exactly the same, and I didn't want any of the boys who had beef with me thinkin' they could get to me by messing with her," he explained, noting the still baffled look on Trish's face.

He pushed himself off the wall, starting to walk away. He gave Trish a nod, gesturing for her to follow him. The pair slowly walked back down the hall, in the direction of Stacy's room. They stopped in front of the window, and John peered through the small openings in between the blinds. He couldn't make out much, but he caught a glimpse of whom he knew to be Chris Jericho, sitting on the edge of the bed. He had offered to let the blonde man go in to visit Stacy first. Even though he was worried sick about his sister, he knew how long Chris had been waiting, and how he was dying to see her. A few more minutes wouldn't kill him.

"I never even met Stace till she was 17, but I feel like I've known her her entire life. We've gotten so close over the years. She... she doesn't deserve shit like this. I knew from the beginning that Test wasn't good enough for her," he said, staring at the white blinds before him.

"I guess when you're someone's big brother, no one's really good enough," Trish said lightly, sending him a half smile. John laughed, shaking his head a bit.

"Nah, I'm not that bad. There are a few I approve of," he commented, tilting his head in Chris's direction. "You think he'd be good to her?" Trish smiled, giving him a confident nod.

"If he's not in love with her I don't know the meaning of the word. He *really* likes her, John. I've known Chris for years, and I've _never_ seen him so head over heels for someone. He'd be perfect for her."

John nodded thoughtfully, his gaze dropping down between the two of them. It was then that he saw their hands, his breath catching slightly in the back of his throat as he realized their fingers were still entwined together. All of the feelings he had for her, the emotions that Trish Stratus brought out him, good and  bad, were still there, he just didn't didn't have the will nor the energy to deal with them. Despite how angry he was with her, and how hurt he was by her actions, he needed her. Both of them were in need of some serious comforting, even if that meant finding it in each other.

*                      *                      *                      *

From inside Stacy's room, Chris yawned, his eyelids growing heavy. He reached up and smacked himself lightly on the face, waking himself up a bit. He refused to let himself fall asleep, not after all the waiting he'd done just to get a chance to see her. He sighed, taking another peek at the fallen blonde, who still remained unconscious. He'd questioned the doctors when he entered, finding it odd that she still hadn't woken up. That was when they'd explained that her injuries - specifically the ones to her head - were more severe than they appeared.

He studied her silently, running a finger down the side of her beautiful face. As he thought of how strongly he felt for the tiny blonde, and how concerned he was for her well being, his eyes watered. He shook his head, desperately blinking back the tears. Taking a deep breath, Chris removed his hand from under Stacy's chin, covering her hand - which was resting on her stomach - with his own. 

He recalled hearing somewhere before that it was good to speak to those who were unconscious, that they could hear what was being said even though they couldn't respond. He used to think such a theory to be a little stupid, but at the moment, he was willing to try. Anything was worth a shot.

"Stacy," he said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "Stacy, it's me, Chris. I just wanted you to know that you're not alone. Christian's here, Trish is here... even John is here. We're worried about you, Stacy. Please wake up, or give me some kind of sign, so I know you hear me. We love you... *I* love you."

He watched her intently as he awaited for any type of reaction from her. He waited and waited, but got nothing. Biting his lip, Chris pulled away, brushing back the tears again. He glanced over at the clock, noting how long he'd been in there. John and the others were awaiting a chance to visit as well, so he sighed, standing up. He lowered his head, tearing his gaze off of her and slowly walking to the door.

"Don't... don't go."

Upon hearing the sound of Stacy's voice, Chris froze in his tracks, his stomach dropping. Although her voice sounded feeble, a wave of relief washing over him as he saw her, her brown eyes wide open.

"Stacy!" he cried, hurrying back to her. He wrapped an arm around her, pressing a kiss to the opposite side of her stitched head. "You scared me so bad."

Despite the agonizing pain she was in, Stacy managed a smile. She said nothing, simply lifting her arm and wrapping his around his waist. She held onto him tightly, as though she were silently begging him to stay.

"I have to go soon," he said reluctantly. "John, Trish, and Christian will want to..."

"I know," she said weakly. "Just don't leave. Please, Chris, don't ever leave me."

Her words wrenching at his heart, Chris pulled her to him, hugging her tightly. Placing his hand on the back of her head, he stroked her hair, vowing right then and there that he would stay by that woman's side for the rest of his life if that was what she wanted. He looked at her, gazing at her with tender blue eyes as he replied.

"Never..."


	17. Part 17

It was now later the next day, and after returning to the hotel following their visits with Stacy to get some sleep, Trish and Chris, sans Christian, who had opted not to join them, were back in the hospital. Chris had gotten word from John, who had remained there through the night and morning, that the doctors, though a bit leery, had decided to release Stacy that afternoon. She had been awake a full four hours when they'd made there decision, knowing there was nothing more they could do now that she'd fully regained consciousness.  

The two blonde Canadians entered the lobby area of the hospital, scanning the room for any signs of John. Chris spotted him at the front desk, standing in the same spot he had the night before when he'd revealed his relation to Stacy, speaking to a nurse as he filled out some papers. He grabbed Trish by the arm, pointing across the room to him. They approached him side by side, and it wasn't till they reached John that he noticed who was just past him.

Chris's gaze softened as he stepped past Cena, leaving Trish behind to smile a hello to the young man. He stepped up to Stacy, a small frown crossing his features as he noticed the wheelchair she was seated in. He kneeled before her, very gently placing a hand on her knee. She looked so tiny, and so very fragile in that large metal contraption, that he was almost afraid to touch her.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his fear being replaced with concern.

Stacy shrugged, making a so-so gesture with her left hand. The other she used to place on top of his hand, entwining her fingers with his. She drew her gaze away from Chris for a moment, her brown eyes fixing on her older brother.

"He's treating me like I'm four," she muttered with an adorable pout. "I hate it."

Chris shot a glance in John's direction as the younger man hurriedly filled out Stacy's release papers, a task that could most likely be handled by Stacy herself.

"Nah, he's just being a big brother," Chris assured her with a smile. Stacy rolled her eyes, seemingly out of annoyance, but then she too succumbed to a grin. "You're lucky to have him, Stace," he remarked, shifting his weight to the left slightly as the opposite knee started to ache. Still smiling softly, Stacy nodded, locking eyes with the blonde man.

"I know," she replied, "almost as lucky as I am to have _you_."

Chris's grin widened instantly at her comment, more than pleased to hear just how much she appreciated him. Comparing him to John, a man who obviously meant the world to Stacy and had been there countless times for her during the past years, was not a difficult thing to take. He leaned in slowly, preparing to place a kiss on her forehead. 

Stacy realized just what he was up to and titled her head back, so that when his lips finally made contact, they were brushing against her own. Chris jumped, startled by the feel of her soft lips on his. He pulled away for a second, wondering whether her action was intended or not. He got his answer when she leaned towards him, kissing him again, this time a bit more passionately. Chris was taken aback, but was far from complaining. Then, just as he was about to slip his tongue into her mouth, the sound of a throat being cleared cut through to his brain like a siren.

Chris turned around to meet the slightly skeptical gaze of John Cena. He looked down, trying to hide the reddening of his cheeks as he got flashbacks of being walked in on in high school. He opened his mouth to apologize, but what came out was a sound that could only be described as a squeak. John's expression changed instantly, and he laughed, shaking his head.

"Alright kids, knock it off," he said in a mock fatherly tone. "Come on, let's get the hell outta here."

*                      *                      *                      *

John watched from afar as Chris helped Stacy out of the wheelchair, holding tightly to the blonde woman as he guided her into the car. He had pulled the Canadian man to the side as they were leaving the building and asked that he take Stacy to the car and get her situated so he would have an opportunity to speak with Trish privately. As he turned back to the tiny diva beside him, she surprised him by taking his hand and pulling him to her, wrapping her arms around his neck. A puzzled look came across his face as he returned the embrace, his arms coming out to encircle her slender waist. He held her close, getting a whiff of her sweet smelling shampoo before he pushed himself away, eyeing her curiously.

"What was that for?" he asked. Trish's eyes locked with his for a second before a slightly bashful gaze took over her and her eyes drifted to the white pavement below them.

"I just..." she began, involuntarily sounding a bit timid. "I wanted to thank you." Her response only ceasing to further confuse him, John tilted his head to the side, his brow arching.

"For what?"

"Just... everything, John, everything you've done over the past day or so. You really took charge of the situation, like none of us would have been able to."

To be quite honest, John's take charge attitude was even more surprising to Trish than his revelation that he was Stacy's brother. It was the first time since meeting him that she'd seen him act so adult, so... _mature_. It was also the first time that she realized even John Cena had a heart. Seeing him in a such a worry over Stacy, and seeing the crushed look that had been etched on his face only a number of hours ago damn near broke her heart. Trish was beginning to see John in a light with which she never had before. When she looked at him now, she no longer saw the arrogant, self-centered, immature prick she once thought him to be. She found herself seeing a man who, despite having his moments, was a compassionate, well-meaning, daresay _loving_ person. And as much as she wracked her brain for painful memories involving him, she couldn't comprehend how anyone, especially herself, could hate a man like that.

"I did what I had to do," John replied suddenly, cutting her 

thoughts short. "Like I told you before, I gotta look out for Stace."

"I was so wrong about you," Trish spoke, disregarding the tiny voice in her head screaming to her that she shouldn't admit such things to him. Before she had a chance to elaborate, John put a hand up.

"Say what?" he questioned, his brow raising again at her very random comment. Seeing the skeptical look in his blue eyes, Trish shook her head, gripping his forearm gently.

"What I mean is, well... you know our relationship has been less than amicable in the past. I've always thought you were, for lack of a better term, a jerk. But after seeing the way you've handled this ordeal, and the way you've been treating Stacy, I must say that I owe you a huge apology. You're an amazing person, John, much more so than I'd ever imagined."

Though he was still unsure of where she was headed, a small smile played on John's lips. Trish stared at him for a moment, and the next this she knew she was standing on her tiptoes, planting a kiss on his lips. John once again found himself caught extremely off guard, but he couldn't keep himself from kissing her back, his hands settling on each of her hips. Their kiss was nothing like the ones from their previous encounters. It lacked none of the passion those kisses held, but there was something more, something that made it all the more special. There was true _feeling_ behind this kiss, as opposed to the lust and physical attraction that had driven the others.

John found himself again sliding his tongue inside her mouth, half expecting one of Trish's typical protests, but there was no complaints from the blonde woman, who was returning the kiss with a fervor John wasn't aware she possessed. They stood that way for a while, wrapped in each others arms and locked in the slow, sensuous kiss, until a siren went off in his head. _What the hell am I doing?_

"Trish, stop," he said suddenly, breaking the kiss and pushing himself from her embrace. "We can't." Trish glanced up at him, unable to disguise the hurt in her eyes.

"What? What do you mean? John, it's okay," she insisted, making a grab for him. 

He swatted her hand away, taking another step back lest she try to reach for him again. Her sad, pitiful, confused eyes, mixed in with her desperately reaching for him was nearly enough to make him break. He didn't think he could handle that.

"No, it's not. Every time we do this, someone ends up gettin' hurt and honestly, Trish, I don't think I could handle it again if it happens to be me. Maybe I should have stayed away in the first place, maybe not, but this just isn't gonna work. I'm really sorry I led you on, and I'm sorry that this has to end before it ever really started."

Trish took a step back, a surprised and extremely disappointed look on her pretty face. She was suddenly understanding how he must have been feeling as of late. How ironic that after all she had done to push him away in the beginning, *he* would was the one ultimately pushing *her* away. She blinked a few times, her eyes beginning to water. She couldn't lose him now... she had never even given herself a chance to begin with.

"John, please," she implored, her dark eyes begging. "I'm sorry for what happened, I'm sorry I walked out on you. I really think we could make this work if we just do things the right way. Please, John..."

"Trish, no," he cut her off, tossing his hands in the air. "Just... no. I'm sorry, too, but this... it's gotta come to an end."

With that said, he stepped forward and leaned down, pressing his lips to hers one last time. Breathing in deeply, John sighed and turned his back to her. The tears that had been welling in her eyes spilled over as he exhaled heavily and walked away, leaving her alone in the lifeless parking lot.


	18. Part 18

**PART 18**

Stacy hurried down an empty arena hallway, rushing to the women's locker room. After taking a few days off to fully recover from her injuries, the blonde woman was back on the road with the Raw roster. After arriving at the arena with Chris, he had explained that he and Christian had to go speak with Eric Bischoff and, for whatever reason, didn't want her there.

As soon as the two men left, Stacy quickly made her way to the locker room, glancing over her shoulder occasionally. She didn't want to run the risk of bumping into Test or Scott Steiner, especially after hearing just how livid her now exboyfriend had been when he discovered that Trish, Chris, and Christian had rescued her. Finally reaching the door to the locker room, she breathed a heavy sigh of relief, thankful that her trip had been uneventful. 

She pushed the door open, entering the room and promptly closing the door behind her. She took a few steps into the room, her eyes settling on the blonde woman she discovered sitting by herself on the couch. Stacy frowned as she studied Trish, the Canadian diva obviously unaware of her presence.

"Hey, Trish..." she murmured quietly, not wanting to startle her.

"Hi Stace," she replied without turning to face her.

She gave a shaky sigh, drawing her legs up on the couch, tucking them under her chin. Stacy sat down next to her, and it was then that she noticed how red and puffy Trish's normally bright eyes were. Concern flooded Stacy's face as she came to the realization that her best friend must have been crying. She placed a gentle hand on her distraught friend, her worry increasing by the second.

"Trish? Are you okay?"

Trish sniffled quietly, lifting her gaze to the younger woman. She tossed the tissue she had been using, the crumpled fabric landing on the table beside the couch.

"I'm alright.... just thinking," she replied. Then, with a small shrug, she added, "You know how I can get sometimes."

Stacy nodded, her lips curling down into a frown. She knew exactly what Trish meant, and that worried her all the more. The Canadian diva only got this way as of late because of one man, and of course, that man was her half brother, John Cena.

"You never told me what happened at the hospital," Stacy commented, recalling the last time she had seen him.

As she and Chris waited for Trish and John to finish their discussion in the parking lot, they had been very surprised to discover Trish returning to them alone. When they questioned her as to John's whereabouts, she'd simply said the young man had decided to take his own car and head straight to the next Smackdown show.

"That's because I never *wanted* to tell you," Trish responded flatly. 

Stacy's frown deepened, her brow creasing as she wondered what could have possibly happened. A ton of scenarios ran through her head, none of them seeming to make sense... except for one. Judging by Trish and John's illustrated past with each other - their constant arguing, the way they acted around one another, their most recent encounters - only one logical explanation for Trish's behavior in the locker room came to mind.

"You cut it off again, didn't you?" Stacy asked, her concern slipping away, to be replaced with frustration. "Trish, why would you do something like that? You *know* how it makes you feel, and you know..."

"Stace, I didn't..."

"No, listen!" Stacy cried, interrupting Trish just as she had done to her a few seconds earlier. "You've had opportunity after opportunity to come to grips with your feelings for him. I know John acted wrongly before, but now he's practically throwing himself at you, and yet you *still* push him away. Suck it up and admit that you love him already, Trish!"

Now that their relation was no longer a secret, Stacy did not feel the need to disguise how sick it made her feel watching her best friend break her brother's heart. Frankly, the entire ordeal made her nauseas. She couldn't stand seeing two people she loved so dearly hurting each other like this. 

From her seat, Trish sighed, sending her an empty stare. She supposed she couldn't blame Stacy to jump to her conclusion - she *had* mad a habit out of walking away - but it did hurt a bit to have her speak so harshly towards her. _If only you knew..._

"Stacy, I didn't cut it off," she spoke, finishing the statement she had previously tried to make before being cut off.

"What?"

Trish sighed, massaging her temples as she felt the twinges of a headache coming on.

"What I mean is that I didn't break it off with him. I *did* come to grips with my feelings, and I let him know. *He* broke it off with *me*, not the other way around. I finally realized just how much I love him... and now he's gone."

*                      *                      *                      *

Meanwhile, in his office somewhere down the hall, Eric Bischoff was in a conference with Rob Van Dam... if you could even call it one. Of all the wrestlers to have ever worked for him, be it on Raw or back in WCW, he had *never* come across someone as difficult to work with as Rob. Mr. Monday Night had a tendency of making the smallest things, such as signing a match, pure hell. When there was a knock on the door, Eric nearly shouted with joy. The grin plastered on his face remained there as Chris Jericho and Christian entered the room.

"Boys, come in!" he greeted them cheerfully. "Have a seat!" Shaking his head, Christian stepped forward, deciding that he would be the first to speak.

"Don't have time, EB... we came by to request a match," he explained, nodding a hello to Rob, whom he just noticed sitting in one of the chairs by Bischoff's desk.

"Alright, name it," Eric replied, not seeing the glare Rob sent him.

"Wait a second, how come they come in here and ask for a match and you agree without even knowing who they want, yet I tell you who I want and why and all of a sudden I'm a pain in the ass?" Rob interject, his question causing the two blonde men to smirk. RVD had always gotten the short end of the stick where Bischoff was concerned, but seeing the two interact was always a comical experience.

"Because you're *always* a pain in my ass, Rob," Eric replied, a wry smile crossing his features. "But, if it makes you happy... guys, who do you want to face?"

"Test and Steiner, as soon as possible," Chris answered quickly, stepping up next to Christian. Rob nodded in his seat, the visit the Canadians were paying the Raw GM beginning to make sense.

"I thought you guys were friends," Eric replied skeptically, surprised by their request.

"Well, you thought wrong," Chris said shortly.

"This is about Stacy, isn't it?" Eric asked, his dark eyes twinkling a bit.

"So what if it is?" Chris shot, taking a somewhat defensive stance at the head of the desk. Eric simply laughed, shaking his head.

"That's cute, but seriously, aren't you a bit beyond playing saviors for the damsel in distress?" he asked with a laugh. 

Sensing his best friend's anger building rapidly, Christian threw his hand back to Chris, holding him steady as he sent Bischoff a dangerous glare.

"This is no game, Bischoff," he warned. "You *do* know that Test attacked Stacy. The asshole _beat_ her, and was planning on going back to do God knows what else had Trish not found her and brought her to us!"

"Which is even more a reason for me to veto your match idea. I know emotions are running high, and I can't afford to lose one of my Superstars to injury because of some personal vendetta. I'm afraid I'll have to say no," Eric replied plainly. He glanced down at the papers on his desk, dismissing the two men as he picked one up and scanned over it.

The air deflated from Chris's chest as though a hole had been poked in him. He could feel the rage building in his system... if he didn't get his match, he would have to find someone else to take it out on, and that was not something he wanted to do.

"Then *I* want Test," Rob said suddenly, to the surprise of all three men. "If you're not going to them their match, give the punk to me, and I'll stop begging for a shot at Triple H for hitting on Lita."

Bischoff arched an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side. He stared blankly for a moment before laughing, shaking his head.

"As enticing as your offer sounds, Rob, I think I'd rather just give these two what they want," he replied, missing the wide grin spreading across Rob's lips. He knew if *he* requested a match with Test, it would only cease to anger Eric, therefore tricking him into giving Chris and Christian their match. Chris's ears perked up, his eyes lighting up as he listened in carefully.

"Fine, you've got it.  Christian and Jericho versus Test and Scott Steiner, next week Monday on Raw... you've got your match."


	19. Part 19

PART 19  
  
The past week had flown by, but for Jericho and Christian, their match with Test and Scott Steiner couldn't come any slower. It was mere minutes before the match would begin, and the two men were itching to get in the ring as they stood at the gorilla position. Christian rose from the floor where he had been stretching, his gaze traveling over to Chris. The expression on his face was intense, to say the very least. From the corner of his eye, Chris could see Christian staring at him, and turned to face him, their eyes locking.  
  
"I'm ready," he said with a fierce determination, his two short words ridding Christian of his worries that Chris would not be able to perform. A smile spread across Christian's lips and he patted his friend on the back.  
  
Not a moment later, the beginning notes of Christian's entrance theme blared through the arena. Chris grabbed his friend's hand, shaking it firmly before watching him walk away, disappearing through the curtain and onto the ramp. He took a deep breath, jogging in place as he waited for his own music to hit.  
  
"Chris!" a voice called, causing him to freeze.  
  
He turned around, and a small smile crossed his face as he saw Stacy standing before him.  
  
"Hey Stace," he said softly, leaning forward to press a kiss to her lips.   
  
Despite the grin he wore on his face, Stacy was less than assured he was alright. Gently pushing him away, she rested her hands on his shoulders, concern filling her brown eyes.  
  
"Chris, are you absolutely sure you want to go through with this?" she asked, unable to disguise the anxiety glistening in her eyes. Chris sighed, placing his hands on her waist.  
  
"Stacy, we already talked about this. It's too late to turn back now, and besides… this is just something I…"  
  
"Have to do," Stacy finished for him, her gaze slipping from his and finding the floor. "I know that, but Chris, I can't help but be worried about you. You don't know what Andrew is capable of, especially when he's got Scott on his side."  
  
"I know he's capable of hurting you, and as far as I'm concerned, that's reason enough for me to tear him limb from limb," he replied, determination twinkling in his eye.   
  
Stacy nodded, but remained silent. Her head dropped between her shoulders, and Chris took it as a sign that she was still wary of the match taking place. Removing his hands from her waist, he cupped her face in his hands, pressing his forehead to hers.  
  
"Look, I know this is scary for you," he said understandingly. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little apprehensive myself, but trust me, it'll all be okay. As soon as Christian and I make those bastards pay for all they put you through, it'll all be over, and we can move on, okay?"  
  
As Stacy drew her gaze back up to his, Christian's music faded to silence. She knew she didn't have much time, and that arguing with Chris now would do the situation no good. Sighing, she forced a supportive smile, nodding on his behalf.  
  
"Okay," she replied, as the sounds of his music began.  
  
Smiling, Chris kissed her once more, reaching for her hands and giving each a gentle squeeze. As he disappeared, Stacy sighed, silently wishing him luck as she turned and headed back towards the locker room.  
  
*****  
  
"I don't like this."  
  
Trish glanced over at the seat next to her, frowning as she saw the nervewracked expression on Stacy's face. The tall blonde chewed on her nail nervously as she stared almost blankly at the match progressing on the monitor before them.   
  
At the moment, Christian was in the ring with Test, more or less getting his ass handied to him by the taller Canadian. Trish could just tell by the expressive look of guilt on her face that Stacy felt partially responsible for the pain Christian was being put through by her ex-boyfriend.  
  
"I know you don't, Stace, but they'll be fine. They know what they're doing, they'll get the job done," Trish assured her, reaching over the arm of her chair to gently pat her best friend on the knee.   
  
Stacy, though unconvinced by Trish's words, nodded silently. Her attention refocused on the screen, she noted that Trish seemed to be correct in her assumption that the boys could handle themselves. Almost immediately after her statement, Christian began to battle back, mustering up the strength to nail Test with a few hard right hands. He whipped the larger man off the ropes and then gave him a swift kick in the stomach, before taking him down and smashing his face into the mat with a solid DDT. He managed to block Test into one of the corners, kicking his opponent repeatedly in the stomach until he dropped to the mat.  
  
Because his back - as well as the referee's - was turned, Scott Steiner slipped into the ring unnoticed. The first thing he did was race to the opposite corner, catching Chris with an elbow to the face and knocking him off the apron. Then, he exited the ring, much to the surprise and confusion of the fans in the arena. His intentions were made crystal clear when he viciously snatched the steel chair from underneath the terrified timekeeper who'd been sitting there.  
  
He returned to the ring, and paused for a beat, and then he charged. A pained groan sounded through the arena as the chair was slammed into Christian's kidney, and he dropped to the ground.  
  
"Oh my God!" Stacy cried as she jumped from her seat, cupping her hands over her mouth in horror.   
  
Trish's eyes widened as Christian dropped to the mat, landing with a loud thud. The referee threw his arms in the air, signaling for the bell to be rung in a blatant and obvious disqualification. As soon as the bell sounded, Test got up and shoved him to the mat as well. The tall man laughed as his partner began to pull Christian up off the mat and out of the fetal position he had curled himself into.  
  
An menacing, sadistic gleam sparkled in Test's cold eyes, and he stopped over to where Steiner and left the chair, leaning down to pick it up. The light reflecting off the steel flickered in his eyes as he rose the chair above his head, smashing it down heavily atop Christian's skull. A painfully loud crack was heard, and Christian dropped to the mat once more, only this time, he didn't move.  
  
Before Test and Steiner could celebrate their actions, Chris was making the ring, attempting to make a late save for his already fallen friend. His efforts, though strong, were futile. His strength alone was no match for theirs combined, and soon enough, he too found himself staring up at the ceiling, sharp pains running through his body with each stiff kick he received. He tried time and time again to get back to his feet, but each time he did so he caught a boot from either Test, Steiner, or both, sending him right back down.  
  
"I can't watch anymore," Stacy said, turning away from the screen, desperately fighting the tears that were threatening her eyes.  
  
At this point, Trish was considering turning away as well, as watching two of her best friends get the living hell beat out of them was hardly bearable. She closed her eyes, silently praying that the two men double teaming Chris would have at least *some* mercy on him. She knew there wasn't much hope of either man, especially Christian escaping unscathed.  
  
Then, she heard something she didn't expect... the people were cheering. Opening her eyes with interest, Trish glanced over at the screen to see what was going on, and her jaw dropped.  
  
"Oh my God... Stacy, look!" she cried, gesturing wildly to the monitor.  
  
Stacy inhaled shakily and turned back to the television, her eyes widening. Test and Scott Steiner were no longer beating on Chris, or Christian either for that matter. In fact, both men had been laid out in the ring...  
  
And standing triumphantly between them, chair raised over his head in victory, was none other than John Cena. 


	20. Part 20

"Hey... hey, John!"

John Cena paused in his tracks, slowly turning around. He was met by Christian and Chris Jericho, both of whom stood behind him, still struggling a bit to catch their respective breaths. He gave the two Canadians a nod, extending his hand in their direction. Chris was the first to reach out and shake his hand, followed by an exhausted Christian, who grimaced in pain as he did so, clutching his ribs.

"We're both extremely grateful you did what you did," Chris started, eyeing him steadily, "but John, what the hell are you doing here?"

John took a deep breath, and was about to answer the blonde man's question, until another voice entered the conversation.

"Guys!" Stacy Keibler called from a short distance.

She rushed over to the three men, Trish Stratus not far behind her. John stepped back to watch as his sister wrapped her arms around Jericho's neck, pressing her lips lightly to his. Trish approached the group more slowly. She first stepped up to Christian, doing her best to avoid any and all eye contact with John. She placed her hand gently onto his forearm, concern filling her deep brown eyes.

"Are you alright?" she asked worriedly.

Despite the agonizing pain he was in - a direct result of the chairshots he took to the kidneys - Christian forced a smile for Trish's behalf.

"Nothing I can't handle," he assured her, his tone brave.

Trish nodded, removing her hand from his arm and resting it on her hip. Her gave traveled to Chris, who still seemed to be convincing Stacy that he was okay. Finally, her eyes reluctantly settled on John, whom she discovered to be staring at her. After a brief, silent staredown, Trish took a deep, shaky breath, tentatively stepping up to him.

"Thank you," she said softly, her voice almost in a whisper. "You're our savior once again."

John laughed softly at her comment, shaking his head lightly.

"Nah... just doing the right thing," he insisted, studying the rest of the group.

By that time, Stacy had finished talking to Chris and Christian, and she ahd turned to face her brother and her best friend.

"John..." she began, walking over to him, "...Mr. Bischoff is going to kill you."

John could clearly see the worry in Stacy's eyes and he shook his head, tossing his hands to the air in protest.

"Not when I'm the newest member of his roster he isn't," he replied.

He was met with a collective gasp, not to mention a few jaws dropping. Up until that point, they had all assumed that John had simply invaded the Raw show to, as he himself had put it, do the right thing. None of them had even considered the possibility that he could have been traded to the brand.

"What?" Christian asked, his eyes widening in disbelief. "How?"

"I talked to Stephanie McMahon about it," he explained, his gaze traveling over each one of them. "Luckily, she understood my position. I don't think she was particularly excited about my wantin' to leave Smackdown, but I think she was real excited about acquiring the person I suggested she go after."

Trish raised her eyebrow at his response, sending him a questioning gaze.

"Who would that be?"

Before John could answer her, he was once again cut off by another person joining the group.

"Me."

The five men and women heard the sound of a throat clearing, and they all turned. Trish saw the man standing behind them, and she gasped...

"Rob...?"

"I'm so sorry about this."

Rob Van Dam glanced up from the suitcase he was packing to see Trish standing in the doorway to his hotel room. He looked at her questioningly, wondering what exactly she was sorry for.

"For what?" he asked curiously, placing the last item into the black bag below him.

"For this," she replied, gesturing to the suitcase he was packing. "For you having to leave. I just... I had nothing to do with it, and if I had I wouldn't have..."

"I did," he interrupted, his gaze turning serious. It was now Trish's turn to eye him questioningly.

"What do you mean you did?"

Rob exhaled heavily, glancing up at her. He reached down and zipped his suitcase shut and then stood, walking over to her.

"Trish, I knew I was going to be traded. In fact, I volunteered to go," he replied.

His words, though casually spoken, hit Trish like a bombshell. She couldn't believe what he was saying. He _volunteered_ to be traded?

"Rob, why? You loved it here on Raw, and all of your friends are here. Why on earth would you want to leave?" she asked, the shock refusing to wear away. 

"Don't worry about me, Trish. Yeah, I've made a lot of good friends here, but I've got tons on Smackdown as well. Besides, the only person I really regret leaving behind is you, and I'm leaving for you," he explained. He thought he had made it all clear, but Trish still had that look on her face - that mixture of emotions, good and bad. So, he decided to elaborate even more. "Look, about a week ago, when that match between Christian and Jericho and those two goons was made, I decided to give John a call. We talked for nearly an entire hour, and both of us decided that he needs to be here. Obviously, the only way that would be possible would be if a trade was made. I figured that Bischoff would be more than willing to part with me, so John got Stephanie in on the plan, and it worked. I'm making my first appearance at tomorrow night's taping."

Trish looked up at Rob, staring at him in complete silence. She had no idea what to say. He had made his actions and intentions perfectly clear, and yet she was now more confused than ever. 

"But Rob, I don't understand. John doesn't want to be with me, and Stacy's got Chris and Christian to protect her. Why does he need to be here on Raw?" she asked, vivid memories of John rejecting her in the hospital parking lot flashing through her mind.

"If he didn't want to be with you, he wouldn't be here," Rob said wisely. "Now, come here and give me a hug before I leave."

Trish gave in and smiled, wrapping her arms around his waist as he hugged her tightly. He pushed back a bit, still locked in her tight embrace, and he smiled. Then, he pulled away, heading back to where his suitcase was resting. He picked it up and tossed it over his shoulder, walking back over to where Trish was standing. A single tear slid down her face as Rob leaned down and kissed her cheek.

"I'm leaving for a reason, Trish, so don't stick around and wait... go after that man of yours."

**A/N: So sorry it took so long to update this! I was stuck for awhile on what I wanted to happen. Hope you guys like it, and sorry again for the wait!**


	21. Part 21

PART 21

"Okay, what's wrong with you?" Chris asked, eyeing Stacy from the armchair she was sitting in across from him.

He had been flipping through a magazine for about fifteen minutes now, and each time he glanced up at her, she had that same look on her face. She stared blankly, her arms crossed in front of her. A few moments later, Stacy turned her head to face him, drawing herself out of her daze long enough to bring her attention to him.

"Nothing," she replied with a sigh, resting her elbow on the arm of her chair and plopping her chin into her hand.

Needless to say, her lackluster response did not convince him in the least. He hopped up from his seat and stepped up to hers, scooping her up in his arms and taking her place in the chair, resting her in his lap. She couldn't help but giggle at his unexpected actions, but her expression fell serious when she saw just how concerned he was.

"Come on, Stace..." he said, pressing his forehead to hers. "...What's on your mind?"

Stacy took a deep breath, shrugging her shoulders.

"A lot of things, Chris," she replied tentatively, "but basically, I've been thinking about Trish. I'm really worried about her. She's barely said two words to me or anyone since John came and Rob left for Smackdown."

Chris nodded, the lightbulb finally going off in his head. He should have known that was the explanation for her withdrawn, thoughtful demeanor.

"John's only been here for a week," Chris replied. "Of course its going to be a bit of an adjustment for her. Just give her a little time to get used to his being here, and she'll go back to being her old self again."

Stacy nodded, but bit her lip thoughtfully. Come to think of it, not only had Trish become a bit of a recluse, she couldn't even remember the last time she'd seen John. Her brother had made himself scarce following his impactful debut on Raw. Rumors had surfaced that the reason for his backstage absence was that he feared running into Test and Scott Steiner, who would undoubtedly be seeking revenge for the stunt he pulled on them. Stacy, however, knew that was far from the case. John was hiding from Trish... it was as simple as that. She couldn't figure out why he would hide, especially since it was obvious he came to Raw for her, but he was definitely doing his best to keep her, not to mention his feelings, as far away as possible.

"Earth to Stacy..."

Chris's voice cut into her thoughts, snapping Stacy out of the daze she had drifted into. Before he could say anymore, she placed a finger to his lips, silencing him.

"I'm fine," she reassured him with a smile, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips.

Her lips hovered over his for a bit, and Chris tilted his head back, their kiss deepening. He sighed as he felt her soft, moist tongue sliding across his. Since they had gotten together, their moments alone were rare, so he was certainly going to take advantage of every second with her.

She shifted her right leg, placing it on the opposite of his body so that she was straddling him. Chris groaned as she shifted her hips against him, his hands sliding down her sides to her tiny waist. Just as his hands slipped below her waistline to grip her butt, the locker room door swung open.

"Woah, hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Stacy jumped off of Chris, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment as she saw Christian standing before them.

"Uh, you kind of are," Chris said.

He gestured to the woman on his lap, glaring at his best friend in frustration. Christian laughed and shook his head, switching his gaze back and forth between the two. He supposed he could be nice, and leave the two alone... but then again, they didn't call him the CLB for nothing.

"Aw, Stacy won't mind if I hang around in here, will you Stace?" he asked, eyeing the blonde woman playfully.

Stacy half smiled, her cheeks still rosy. She didn't really want to, but she shook her head in response to his question.

Christian grinned, "I knew I wouldn't be a bother to you..."

"Get. Out," Chris said dangerously, glaring at Christian almost angrily now.

The former Intercontinental Champion smiled, shaking his head firmly as he took a seat in the chair Chris had been sitting in prior to moving to be with Stacy. He had to bite back a laugh as he heard what he swore to be a growl coming from his best friend.

"No," he replied flatly, winking at him.

"It's okay, Chris, I have to get going anyway," Stacy admitted, hopping up off the seat. She leaned down to press one last kiss to his lips, and then proceeded to make her way out the door.

Once she was gone, and the door had closed behind her, Chris reached over to the table separating the two of them, grabbing the magazine had had held in his hand. He rolled it up and chucked it, the papers fluttering as it whacked Christian in the head. The short-haired man laughed, shaking his head as he watched Chris crossed his arms over his chest, pouting.

"I hate you, asshole," he whined.

And Christian simply smiled.

John took a deep breath and glanced down, his eyes absently fixing on his legs, which were carrying him in long strides down the hall. He looked up as he reached the door he had been looking for, casually stepping up to it. He reached out and knocked firmly before dropping his fist to his side, rocking his weight back and forth between legs. Though he was trying his best to look calm, he was feeling anything but cool. As the door inched open, the young man silently prayed that he would not be greeted by a certain blonde woman. He breathed a steady sigh of relief when he looked down to see a head full of raven colored locks.

"Hey, Vic," he said with a smile, nodding at the current Women's Champion. Victoria returned his grin, opening the door a bit wider.

"Hey, John!" she replied cheerily. "What can I do for you? Looking for Trish?"

Despite her good natured laugh, John cringed at Victoria's comment. He was sure that the friendly diva meant well, but that didn't make the thought of Trish slice into his heart any less painfully. Still, he held his tongue, forcing a smile and a quick chuckle for the woman before him.

"Nah, actually, I was lookin' for Stacy. You seen her anywhere?" he asked, gazing past her into the seemingly empty locker room.

Victoria raised her eyebrow for a second, then glanced down at the watch wrapped around her wrist.

"I talked to her not too long ago, and from what she told me, she should be here any minute. You can stick around and wait if you want," she suggested, gesturing into the room.

John hesitated for a moment, but then agreed, nodding his head a few times.

"Alright, cool," he said, following her into the room.

"I have to get some of my gear ready for tonight's show, so you can just have a seat over there," Victoria instructed, pointing out the leather couches towards the back of the room.

John nodded again, thanking her once more as he sauntered over to the couches. He plopped down into the first one he approached, exhaling loudly. He covered his eyes with his hands, rubbing at them tiredly. A yawn escaped his lips, reminding him of just how exhausted he really was. He hadn't been sleeping very well as of late.

When he removed his hands from his face, he caught a glimpse of something from the corner of his eye, something that grabbed his attention. He shifted in his seat, leaning closer to the object, which was resting on a small end table nearby. It was a notebook - a plain, spiral notebook with a light blue cover - and he just knew he had seen if before. He thought about it for a minute, and the answer came to him.

He had a sort of flashback, going all the way back to the night he had gone into Trish's hotel room with her - the night he had ultimately walked out on her. He recalled seeing that very same notebook as he rushed his way out of the room that night. Curiosity getting the better of him, he reached over and picked it up, resting it in his lap. He took a quick glance over at Victoria to be sure she wasn't looking his way, and he opened up the book. He knew it was wrong to be going through her property like that, but in his defense, his mind never functioned properly when Trish Stratus was concerned.

He leafed through some of the pages, and he was a bit surprised at what he found. The book was almost completely filled - with the exception of a few blank pages - with poems. He had never known the Canadian diva to be the poetic type. He read through a few of them, nodding his head in approval. Her writings were very good, and it was obvious she had a lot of talent. John skimmed over some more, but stopped when one of Trish's poems stood out, catching his eye.

He read through it carefully, and he could practically feel his stomach drop from his body. This poem may as well have had his name written on it. All egos aside, he just knew this poem was written about him, and about their relationship.

Suddenly, an idea came to mind, one that he simply could not ignore. He had been contemplating for weeks on how to make things right between himself and Trish, and he may have finally come up with a solution... or at least something that would lead to one. Very carefully, so as not to make any noise, John ripped the piece of paper from the notebook. He rose from the couch, placing the notebook back where he had gotten it, and folded the piece of paper into a small square before stuffing it in his pocket. He approached Victoria, who was still buried in her gym bag, and he tapped her on the shoulder.

"On second thought, Vic, I'm gonna bounce. Just tell Stacy I came to see her... there's somethin' I gotta do."

**A/N: I had to add a little bit of (cheesy) humor at the beginning there, this story was just getting way too serious! Believe it or not, I'm almost done with this fic! There's really only going to be 1-3 more chapters left, depending on how I decide to end it. Hope you like the latest chapter!**


	22. Part 22

**A/N: 1. I'm so sorry this chapter took so long! I got completely stuck on what to do, and I rewrote the second part about a million times before I decided it was okay. Thanks for your patience, I appreciate it so much. Hopefully the lengthiness will make up for the extended wait!  
2. Also, lyrics from this part are from the song 'I Just Want You,' off the Originals CD. Come on, I know you all knew that was the 'poem'! =P**

PART 22  
"Eric, we need to have a chat with you."

The Raw General Manager glanced up to see who was at the door. He was met by the large figures of Test and Scott Steiner, and neither man looked very happy. Bischoff groaned, pulling the reading glasses he was wearing from his face and tossing them to the desk. How foolish of him to think that once RVD was out of the picture, his problems would be as well. These two goons hadn't been off his back for the longest time.

"What can I do for you, boys?" he asked, though his tone showed that in reality, he couldn't care less.

"We've been asking to talk to you about this since last Monday. We want a match..." Test spoke, stepping into the makeshift office.

"You and everyone else on the roster," Bischoff muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes to emphasize his annoyance. When he noticed the fists of Scott Steiner clenching together tightly, he jumped. "What do you want? A rematch with Christian and Jericho?"

"No," Test replied, "we want the punk that _cost_ us our match with those two. We want John Cena."

Eric nodded, wondering why he hadn't thought of it before. He had no problem feeding Cena to one of the two men standing before him. Shortly after Cena had made his debut on Raw by attacking Test and Steiner, he had gotten word that John and Rob switching rosters was all a paln orchestrated by the two men themselves and his arch nemesis, Stephanie McMahon. Though he was unbelievably relieved to have RVD out of his hair, he did not appreciate being tricked into making a trade.

"Okay, which of you wants to take on John Cena tomorrow night?" he asked, switching his gaze back and forth between the two individuals.

"We both want him, Eric," Steiner said, stepping up beside his tag team partner. "That little bastard thinks he take both of us out at the same time? Lets see him try it while our backs _aren't_ turned!"

Eric thought about it for a moment, eyeing them skeptically. He didn't see a handicapped match risking the safety of the hottest superstar in the company at the moment going over well with the Board of Directors.

"I can't just _give_ you a handicapped match, Scott, not without very good reason. The executives will never allow it to..."

"He fucked up our match, that's plenty good reason!" Test screamed, leaning forward and slamming his fists onto Eric's desk. "C'mon, you know if Evolution were to come in here requesting the same exact match, you'd give it to them in a heartbeat."

Eric remained silent, folding his hands together. At this point, he was willing to do whatever was necessary to get Test and Scott Steiner out of his office and off of his ass, so he caved, nodding tentatively.

"Okay, fine... both of you can have Cena in the ring tomorrow, during Raw."

--------------------------------------------

John laughed nervously as he studied the blonde woman's expression across from him. Trish hadn't spoken much that night, and he feared she wasn't having a very good time. His eyes scanned the others at the table - all of them were in on his plan... except Trish, of course. He was surprised she had even agreed to show up with them, but he supposed Stacy had a lot to do with that. His sister had done a lot of coercing to ensure that Trish would be there for the evening. She knew how much it would mean to John, so she put up with the few eyerolls she received from Trish for it.

John almost laughed at the rather eclectic group of individuals at their table. Other than Trish and himself, Chris and Stacy had come, and Lilian Garcia also joined them, tagging along as Christian's 'date' for the evening. Actually, the more he thought about it, he supposed that he was the only one who didn't fit in with the group. His drifting attention was drawn back to the table as Chris cleared his throat with a cough.

"I can't sit any longer," he said restlessly, before turning to gaze adoringly at Stacy. "Ms. Keibler, would you care to dance?"

"I'd just love to," she replied with a smile, graciously extending her hand to him. Not more than a moment after the couple sauntered off, Christian turned to Lilian.

"Well, _fine_ Lilian, I'll dance with you. Don't look so desperate," he said jokingly, chuckling lightheartedly. The ring announcer rolled her eyes at him, giggling as he pulled her away from the table and onto the dance floor.

John took a deep breath... so far, everything had gone as planned. He placed his hands under the table, brushing his palms off on his jeans. He looked over at Trish, who offered him a small, awkward smile.

"What do ya say we get out there with them?" he suggested, praying that he didn't sound too hopeful.

Trish looked hesitant for a moment, but eventually she nodded.

"Sure, why not?" she replied with a casual shrug.

She rose from the table, tossing a glance over her shoulder at him before leading him to the dance floor. Once her back was turned, John breathed a huge sigh of relief, and then followed after her. Once they were out on the floor, John wrapped his arms around Trish's slender waist, pulling her close to him.

As Trish threw her arms around his neck and the two began swaying to the music, John swallowed hard, hoping she wouldn't notice that his heart was beating so fast it was damn close to thumping right out of his chest. They danced in silence, and as the song neared its end, Trish began to survey the room. She could see Chris and Stacy off in a corner, the two enveloped in each other's arms, but there was no sign of Christian or Lilian.

When John tilted his head to see what the blonde diva was looking at, he too became aware of the pair's absence... and his stomach dropped.

"Excuse me?" a feminine voice called over the speakers.

John's anxiousness grew rapidly as he recognized Lilian's voice, and he and Trish turned to see her standing on the stage. Trish cocked a brow at the sight, while John thanked his lucky stars that there were no other WWE Superstars in attendance. At least if his plan failed miserably, his humiliation wouldn't get back to the boys.

"Hey, ladies and gentleman," Lilian spoke again as the people hushed down. "Sorry to interrupt, but I'd like your attention for just a moment. A friend of mine is here tonight with a girl he likes a whole lot. And this friend of mine wants this girl to know just how he feels. Only problem is, he's a little too nervous to tell him herself... so, I've decided I'd lend him my voice to do so."

With that, the band - a band he was paying very well for their help - began to play, and Lilian prepared to do her part. Trish eyed John curiously as they continued to dance... Lilian had to be referring to them.

_Make up your mind  
Don't you want me like I,  
__I wanna feel that  
__Touch that haunts me every night  
__It felt so right_

Her eyes widened as she recognized the lyrics... they were her own! She looked up at John in shock as Lilian sang. His expression was tentative, as though he was waiting for her to react before he acted.

"Oh my God..." she said, and at the moment, he didn't know _what _she was thinking. "Those words... how did you get them?"

She didn't know how to feel. Should she be angry with him for invading her privacy, for taking her poem? Or should she be mortified at the fact that those lyrics being exposed to everyone in the room described exactly how she felt for him? Her head starting to spin.

_I just want you  
__You know I, I just want you  
__Do you want me?_

"I'm sorry I took them, Trish," John said sincerely, "but for the longest time, I've been tryin' to find the right thing to say to you. When I found that poem, I just... those were the words. What you wrote is what I've wanted to say the whole time."

Her cheeks flushed a bit, a bashful smile playing on her lips.

"Really?" she asked, barely even able to hear Lilian anymore. Her own mind was working far too fast.

"Yes, really," John replied with a soft smile. "I want to forget everything that's already happened between us. I don't want the drama, I don't want the fighting... I just want _you_."

Now, Trish knew exactly how to feel, and it most certainly was not anger, or embarrassment. She was thrilled. Thrilled that John would take her words and make them into something so beautiful. Thrilled that he cared. Thrilled that they would have a second chance.

"I want you too, John."

_Got a feeling that it's time  
__To make the change  
__Got a feeling that things  
__Can't stay the same  
__I feel my heart  
Losing control_

John smiled at her response, the sickening feeling he'd had in the pit of his stomach for nearly the entire evening finally settling down. He pulled her even closer as he looked up and Lilian - whom he'd never be able to repay for all she'd done - smiled sweetly at them. He gave a small grin back and then he slowly, cautiously lowered his head to Trish, pressing his lips to hers in a soft, gentle kiss.

And for the first time, both their hearts were in it.


	23. Part 23

**A/N: Okay, this is it, the final chapter. I want to thank each and every one of you that read and reviewed this story, especially Tess (your reviews are always my favorite), Kay, Shannon, Jen, and Nicole. But seriously, thanks to all of you for such a great response. You have no idea how inspiring your feedback is. Also, thanks to Rebecca, for sending me the challenge to write this fic in the first place. =) So thanks again to all of you, hope you enjoy the last chapter!**  
  
The Next Night  
John pushed his way through the curtains, stumbling a bit as he headed away from the gorilla position. He reached up to hold the back of his head, his hand becoming soaked with sweat. He had to admit that his head was still ringing as a result of being dropped on it by Scott Steiner. John snorted at the thought of the overly muscular man's poor wrestling skills. He wouldn't know a German suplex from a Russian legsweep.

Despite his still bitter feelings toward his opponents, a satisfactory smirk curled John's lips. The odds had been stacked greatly against him tonight, that's for sure. They were even more so that way when General Manager Bischoff made an announcement barring all outside parties from ringside. He had put every ounce of strength and stamina into his match against Test and Steiner, and it paid off. He beat the living hell out of Test for what the bastard did to his sister, and he didn't leave much left of Steiner, either. Somewhat miraculously, he won the match. He had pulled through…

John couldn't help but smile as he rounded a corner to discover a small group of wrestlers that had gathered around to wait for him, all eyeing him admiringly. A slow, subtle round of applause was heard, and John shook his head at Chris Jericho, the source of the noise. He slowly approached the shorter man, extending his hand graciously.

"Thanks for everything, man," he said, gripping Chris's hand firmly. "You've been a real big help."

Had the crazy situation involving Test, Stacy, Chris, Trish and himself never happened, he would never have considered Chris a potential friend. In just a few short months, his perspective changed the completely, and he began to see the blonde man in a new light. That went for nearly all the people surrounding him. His eyes surveyed the area, and John grinned as he saw Stacy, Chris, Christian, Lilian, Victoria, and Rob Van Dam – who had, upon hearing of the match that would be taking place, insisted on flying out to watch… even if he did have to hide from Bischoff. Standing there, surrounded by his friends, John had the most overwhelming sensation of pride and accomplishment. Of all the things he had done in his career, this victory ranked among the top. He had done it.

Still, something was missing. He gazed around the room, frowning a bit as he couldn't find what – rather, _who_ – he was searching for. Where was she?

"Guys…" he began, having to pause and clear his throat to catch their attention over the commotion, "guys… where's Trish?"

Stacy almost smiled at the slightly fearful connotation in her brother's tone. Had she not already known where Trish was at the moment, she probably would have worried as well, though. She laughed softly, stepping past Chris and grabbing John by the arm. 

"Calm down, John, she'll be here. She just ran off to get some ice," she explained with a reassuring nod.

John cocked his head at her, a puzzled look on his face.

"Ice? What for?" he questioned, looking around at everyone.

"I told her you were alright," Christian spoke up. Then, he gestured to John's head. "But she wouldn't have it. That nasty suplex Steiner gave you had her more than a little concerned."

Stacy smiled as she continued to eye John intently, her heart warming at his expression. Moments like this, seeing him like this made her feel remarkably blessed to be related to this man, even if she didn't know him for a good portion of her life.

From where he was positioned behind her, Chris gazed as Stacy wonderingly. She had been right about him all along. She stood by John when everyone – himself included – despised him, and she helped prove that, contrary to popular belief, John Cena was _not_ an asshole. He was a good man…. A damn good one at that.

"There you are…"

Hearing her voice sent an uncontrollable shiver up his spine. John slowly turned to face behind him, his stomach tying in a nervous and happy knot as he locked eyes with Trish. The young Canadian woman held an ice pack in her hand, just as Stacy and Christian said she would. For a moment, they simply stared, as if seeing each other for the first time. Time seemed to stand still, and even though the people around them were moving quicker and conversing louder, it felt as though they were the only two people in the room.

Trish broke into a smile, and when John returned the grin, he opened his arms to her, sighing contentedly as she fell into his embrace. Her arms locked tightly around him as he held her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. After a few moments, Trish pushed away from him and took his hand, leading him over to an equipment crate. He plopped down on it and she positioned herself between his legs, gently pressing the ice to the back of his head.

"Trish, you don't have to…"

"Shhh," Trish hushed, placing a finger of her free hand to his lips. "I'm so proud of you, John. What did you did out there tonight was amazing not only athletically, but it was just beautiful. You really stood up for Stacy out there, and regardless of whether or not she's family, that is terrific."

John smiled at her compliment, nodding graciously. He placed his hand over hers, gently rubbing the inside of his palm against her soft skin. Glancing up at her, he could feel his breath catching in his throat. He couldn't help it… her beauty alone was breathtaking. Just looking at her had him feeling as though he could spend the rest of his life just the way he was – with her. He gave her hand a small tug, and when she leaned toward him, his kissed her, their lips lingering over one another's just a second more than they had to. When they separated, John wrapped his arms around her, and the two observed the crowd surrounding them.

From the looks of things, that play date between Lilian and Christian didn't seem so fake anymore. The two stood off in a corner, their faces dangerously close to one another as the blonde man whispered something to her. Chris and Stacy were, as per usual, connected at the hip, the leggy blonde holding fast to his waist. Trish smiled… it was so nice to see everyone happy, for a change.

"Come on," John said, running his fingers down her back till his hand came to rest at her waist. "Let's get out of here and celebrate."

Trish nodded, entwining her fingers with his as he rose from his seat, tossing the ice pack to the side. As they disappeared hand in hand down the hall, Trish looked up at John and smiled. The serene, comfortable, loving feelings she was experiencing made all the angst and drama seem well worth it. After such a long period of uncertainty, she was finally sure of one thing: She had found love, and with that, nothing else mattered.

::The End::


End file.
